


Web Building and Other Tricks of the Heart

by Steampunkgirl198



Series: WBOTH [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: ALL OF IT, Ableism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bisexuality, Cute Awkward Lesbian Girls, Demisexuality, Derse and Prospit, Fluff, Friendship, Homestuck - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, John is an absolute cabbage, Multi, Past Abuse, Past Violence, Sarcasm Galore, Scourge Sisters, Spider Mom as a human is terrifying, Vriska has a prosthetic arm, Vriska has so many issues, all the johnvris, cake is the remedy to all problems, davekat - Freeform, don't worry it's not 24/7 sadness, gay dorks, johnvris, long-term effects of past child abuse, no graphic details, rosemary, these characters are sarcastic jackasses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-20 11:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1509590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steampunkgirl198/pseuds/Steampunkgirl198
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people see college as a way to re-invent themselves. Others see it as a new chapter of their lives just waiting to be filled with adventure. Either way, everyone agrees that college is a time for new starts.<br/>For John Egbert, it's a chance to plan for the future and enjoy life alongside friends both new and old.<br/>For Vriska Serket, it might just be a way to finally forget. But old secrets have a way of coming back to haunt you, no matter how hard you fight to keep them buried. </p><p>Web Building and Other Tricks of the Heart is a story of first tries, second chances, and learning that even when the world feels like it's come crashing down around you, it can always be re-built.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New beginnings

Your name is Vriska Serket, and you are completely lost. It’s been half an hour and you’re still no closer to finding your first class than you were when you started. You couldn’t sleep this morning, and so you’d gone ahead and left early, thinking that maybe you could make a good impression on your first day before the professor discovered what a miserable student you would be. Now it seemed like you’d be lucky to make it to class at all. As you walk down yet another hall, you wonder just how large Skaia University is. It had seemed fairly average on the website, nothing massive like what you are experiencing now. You knew you’d come from a small place, but seriously, how could one university be so big? You’ve gone up and down countless staircases and gotten turned around in this maze of hallways so many time you’re ready to scream. You’ve passed the same motivational posters 8 times at least, and you swear if you have to walk past that janitor and her silent judgment one more time. Well, let’s just say it won’t be pretty. 

You are starting to regret not going to the help desk on the ground floor to begin with, but you’ve never really been one to seek help from others. You’d rather do thing your way, even if your way does result in being trapped in the hallway maze from hell.  
You turn the corner, and find yourself confronted with the same common room space you left ten minutes ago. The walls are a light blue color, and one wall is taken up by a large window overlooking nice green space below. There are several tables spaced evenly around the area, as well as a dark green couch against the back wall. Several plastic ferns litter the corners, and an old vending machine advertises an assortment of stale snacks. Bright sunlight streams in through the window and you feel a familiar ache behind your temples. Great. A migraine is just what you need today. Feeling more annoyed by the seconsd, you dig a few quarters out of your bag and deposit them into the vending machine. You press the button “B8” and watch as your pack of M&Ms are pushed forward. The machine makes a suspicious grinding noise, and stops just as the candy reaches the edge. You stand staring at the brightly colored mechanical demon for a moment before letting out a scream of frustration. 

"God _damn it_!” You yell, slamming your fist against the glass. The M &Ms sway a bit, but don’t move, as if trying to taunt you. “ _Fine _,” you hiss. “I wasn’t hungry anyways.”__

__Just then your stomach growls, betraying you. You hit the machine once more before turning away in disgust. You jump, startled by the appearance of a girl standing just a few feet away from you. She’s wearing a light, burn-out purple jacket, with what looks like tentacles weaving around the sides, over black jeans and a tank top, along with well-worn purple sneakers. Her blond hair is cut short, and is a stark contrast to her almost violet eyes.  
Shit. She probably saw all of that. You don’t like other people in general, much less so when they catch you being defeated._ _

__“You know, you really shouldn’t damage school property like that,” she says to you. Despite the seriousness of her tone, you can see the hint of a smile playing across her lips._ _

__“True,” you say, regarding her skeptically. “But it stole my M &Ms.” You’d debated snapping at her, but she doesn’t really seem intent on giving you a hard time. You don’t really have any good comebacks this early in the morning anyways. _ _

__She frowns and says with what this time is clearly mock seriousness, “A most terrible crime indeed. This calls for drastic measures.”  
Before you can say anything else, she walks past you and deposits four quarters into the machine. She traces her fingers across several of the buttons before selecting “A8”. You watch as a pack of Sun Chips are pushed forward directly above your hostage candy. They reach the end of the ledge, hang suspended precariously for a moment, and fall into the tray below without so much as brushing the packet of M &Ms. She picks up the bag of chips and idly pulls it open. After popping one in her mouth she turns to you and says, _ _

__“Now then, care to help me tip the vending machine over a bit?”_ _

__You laugh, surprised. “Sure,” you reply with a sly grin. You’ve gotta say, you appreciate this girl’s wit. Besides, as your traitorous stomach reminded you, you really could use something to eat._ _

__“Excellent,” she smiles, taking hold of one end of the machine. You take hold of the other and she counts to three._ _

__“One, two, _three_ ,” you both push against the vending machine and you crane your neck to look through the glass front. _ _

__“Is it coming loose?” She asks._ _

__“No,” you frown. The stubborn thing is snagged on something. Just your luck. You give the vending machine an extra shove, and suddenly the M &Ms, along with half of the other snacks, fall forward. You and the other girl ease the machine back into place, and stare for a moment at the load of junk food now spilling from the tray. _ _

__“An unexpected, yet not unfortunate result,” she says. She smiles again. She has a nice smile, not the annoying perky kind that makes you want to punch something; but a ‘my plan is working well isn’t that fun’ sort of smile. You think you like it. “I think this is fair payment for our determination,” she announces._ _

__“Hell yeah it is,” you grin. You like the way this girl thinks. Only suckers would let an opportunity like this go to waste._ _

__She looks at you for a moment. “My name is Rose Lalonde,” she says, holding out her right hand._ _

__“Vriska,” you say, returning her handshake. “Vriska Serket.” You see a look of confusion pass over her face. A moment later you realize why._ _

__You hold your left arm up and tap it with your other hand. “It’s a prosthetic,” you explain, bracing yourself for the usual questions. You try, and fail, to suppress your annoyance. Just once you’d like to introduce yourself normally. At this rate people will be greeting you with Bionica jokes by the end of the week._ _

__Her expression clears, and to your surprise she doesn’t ask you anything about your “robot arm”, as so many have called it. Instead she asks, “So where are you headed?”_ _

__“Well,” you say with a sigh, “I was _planning_ to go to my Psychology class. The Merciless Gods of Skaia University however seem intent on cursing me to wander these fucking halls for the rest of the eternity. Bastards…” You mutter that last part under your breath._ _

__She raises an eyebrow at this. “Psychology huh? Well Vriska, it seems the Gods of Skaia University may not be so merciless after all.”_ _

__“How’s that?” You ask, tilting your head to the side._ _

__“Because,” she begins, rummaging for something in her black tote bag, “I just so happen to be taking Psychology myself. And I have _this_ ,” she says triumphantly, flourishing a pamphlet with the Skaia University logo on it. It’s some sort of sun on a light blue background or something. _ _

__You’ve never really looked at it that much. You’re much more interested in what it says under the logo._ _

__“Is that?” You ask in awe, seldom daring to believe it._ _

__“It is,” she nods. “A map of Skaia University.”_ _

__First the vending machine and now this. Maybe there’s someone here you can stand after all. You let out a small laugh. “You might just be alright,” you grin._ _

__“Well I should hope so,” she says. “After all I did just saving you from an eternity of wandering the halls of Skaia University until you starved to death.”_ _

__“Good point,” you say, scooping several handfuls of snack food into your own bag. It’s dark blue and covered with a silver spider web design, matching well with your navy jeans and black v-neck top. The only contrast to your outfit is your lucky red sneakers. Ever since you read a mythology book as a child about red shoes being good luck you’ve worn practically nothing that wasn’t some shade of it. Some people might say it’s ridiculous to wear a particular thing solely because of a myth. Some people can fuck off._ _

__During your internal diatribe, Rose has unfolded the map and is currently tracing her finger along its surface._ _

__“Ah hah!” She exclaims. “Here it is,” she says, showing you a small square in the map. She lets you hold it as she goes to take several snacks from the remains of their vending machine pillage. There are so many lines twisting and turning on the guide, it’s no wonder you’d gotten lost. Now that you’ve got a map though…_ _

__“Follow me,” you say, swinging your bag over your shoulder._ _

__“Are you sure?” Rose asks, sounding surprised. “Wouldn’t you rather look at the map a bit longer?”_ _

__“Oh Rose,” you say, shaking your head, “Don’t you know? Never doubt a Serket girl with a map.” With that you stride confidently down the hall, looking briefly over your shoulder to find her following right behind you, a bemused smile flickering across her face. You navigate your way through the labyrinth of halls and staircases, smirking as you pass the janitor once more. She says nothing, but watches silently as you pass by._ _

__Several minutes later you stop before a door marked “Psychology 101”._ _

__“I’m sorry I ever doubted you,” Rose says solemnly._ _

__“I suppose you’re forgiven this once,” you say, opening the door. You follow her in and find a seat near the back. Rose offers you a seat next to her, but you shake your head. You appreciate wit and a nice smile. You don’t appreciate attachment. Getting attached means getting close. And you of all people know the consequences of that._ _


	2. A Young Man Stands in the Main Square

A young man stands in the middle of Skaia University’s main square. It just so happens that today is his first day of college.  
Your name is John Egbert, and despite your optimistic attitude, you’re feeling slightly overwhelmed. Slightly may be a bit of an understatement actually. It might be more accurate to say you’re slowly descending into severely stressed-out territory and you have no idea where your first class is. 

Essentially, you’re lost. 

You sigh, turning in a full circle. There are multiple paths branching off from the square, and you have no idea where any of them lead. You could always just choose one and hope that it leads you to your Biology Lab, but you sort of doubt you’d get that lucky. 

The smell of coffee wafts past you, and you deeply breathe in its aroma. You decide it’s about time for a caffeine fix. Following the scent, you take a path to the left and find yourself rounding the perimeter of a large building. You peer up at the building’s placard, shielding your eyes from the sun with one hand, and see that it says “Skaia University Library”. _Huh, that’s good to know,_ you think to yourself. _I’ll probably be spending a lot of time there. I wonder if they have any jobs openings…_ You’ve volunteered at libraries before, and overall there’s just something you like about the calm atmosphere they have. You decide you’ll have to swing by there later, assuming you can find your way back. You continue walking down the path, and as the rich smell of ground coffee beans grows stronger you see it. A coffee hut.

“Thank god,” you say to yourself, walking a little faster. You reach the end of the line, and try to wait patiently. You used to hate coffee when you were younger, but now it’s frequently the only thing that keeps you going. You remember the first time you told Dad you liked coffee. He’d looked at you quietly for a moment before hugging you tightly and saying how proud he was to see you becoming a man right before his eyes. He’d left you notes all the time saying how proud he was of you. You had always groaned when you found them, embarrassed. Your dad was so proud the day you got you acceptance letter to Skaia he cried a little. You found notes everywhere for weeks after that. You’re not sure how you feel about it, but now that you’re away from home, you have to admit that they always were kind of nice. Just another thing to make you homesick now you guess. 

_At least I already know some people here,_ you think to yourself. You imagine it must suck to start over somewhere alone. 

Thankfully, you’ve got your friends Rose and Dave to keep you company. Jade’s at Vet School, learning to do…whatever it is people learn to do at vet school. Her university’s only half an hour away though, so you’ll still get to see her. You still can’t believe that you and your friends got into the same university. For years you’d talked online and even met in person a few times over the years, mostly during the summer or school breaks, and then you’d started high school and suddenly it was time to start looking for colleges and during one chat you realized that you all had one university in common on your lists. One whirlwind of college applications, anticipation, and acceptance letters later and now here you are. Jade waited until the last minute to make her decision. You could tell how torn she was between pursuing her passion and staying with you guys, afraid that if she went somewhere else you would all drift apart. Until of course the three of you talked some sense into her. _“We’ve been friends for how long?”_ Dave had asked her. _“There’s not a force on Earth that could free you from me and these losers,”_ he informed her solemnly. _“He’s right you know,”_ Rose had told her. _“Psychologists say that friendships that exceed seven years are most often destined to last a lifetime.” “See? What’d I tell you?”_ Dave had said. _“You’re stuck with us Harley, no matter what.”_

Speaking of Dave, just then you hear your phone buzz. You pull out your phone and see that you’ve got a new message from him on the Pesterchum mobile app.

[TG] hey john  
[GT] hey dave. i’m in line at a coffe hut.  
[GT] want anything?  
[TG] COFFEE john??? really?? its like you dont even know me sometimes  
[GT] …  
[GT] they don’t sell apple juice dave.  
[TG] I know  
[TG] thats why coffee huts suck  
[TG] anyways ive got it covered  
[GT] oh god  
[GT] don’t tell me you’re wearing the hat.  
[TG] hey  
[TG] dont hate on my sick-ass hat  
[TG] this things got wicked irony woven into its very fiber  
[TG] not to mention  
[TG] hands-free apple juice enjoyment 24-7  
[TG] its like motherfucking christmas up in here  
[GT] you look ridiculous.  
[TG] ironically ridiculous  
[TG] magically delicious-  
[GT] stop  
[GT] no raps  
[GT] it’s too early in the morning for that  
[TG] whatever  
[TG] youre just jealous  
[GT] jealous that you have a cheap plastic drinking helmet filled with apple juice?  
[GT] yeah dave.  
[GT] i’m so jealous.  
[TG] i fucking knew it  
[TG] its okay though because I forgive you  
[TG] Because thats what bros like us do  
[TG] Aint no jealousy shit ever gonna come between us  
[GT] yeah  
[GT] thanks for that dave.  
[TG] youre welcome john  
[TG] so do you know where your first class is yet???  
[GT] sadly no  
[GT] i’m pretty much lost :(  
[TG] and yet you still managed to find coffee  
[GT] priorities strider, priorities.  
[TG] damn egbert  
[TG] youre hooked on that shit  
[GT] says the guy with a drinking helmet  
[TG] hey  
[TG] addiction is a powerful thing man  
[GT] you don’t have to tell me!  
[GT] oh hey, i’m at the front of the line.  
[GT] talk to you later?  
[TG] yeah man  
[TG] catch ya later

You step up to the hut and order a large cup of coffee. As you wait, you tuck your phone back into your bag. Something light blue catches your eye, and you pull out a Skaia University pamphlet, puzzled. Below the school logo it reads “Map of Skaia University Campus”, and under that is a note from your dad. 

“Son. Congratulations again on your acceptance to Skaia University. Here is a map of the campus to help you along the way. This is a big step for every bright young man. I am so, so proud of you.” 

“Thanks Dad,” you laugh under your breath, smiling. You unfold the map just as the barista hands you your steaming cup of coffee, and turn away from the hut, scanning the mess of twists and turns on the map for the Biology Lab. Someone bumps into, jostling you and your coffee. A small percentage of it spills on your sleeve and onto the guy who ran into you. He stops to glare at you for a second and snarls:

“Watch it you guzzling fuck-wit,” before storming away. He’s wearing a baggy dark grey sweater, and his curly tousled hair makes it look like he just woke up. Judging by how fast he’s hurrying through the crowd you think that might be the case. You’d know the “Oh shit I overslept” look anywhere. Sighing, you hold the map out in front of you again. You trace your finger over the pathways until you come to a square marked “Science Department”. Working your way back, you trace a path to the round library building behind you, which is marked on the map with a circle. It’s not too far, but it’s not close either. You’ll be lucky to just make it. 

You look around at the bustling crowd for a moment before setting off in the same direction as the guy who bumped you. You have a feeling it’s going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so a new perspective is introduced! Hello there, I hope you're enjoying the story so far. For now the POV will rotate throughout the chapters with no real pattern, but that may change later on. Web Building and Other Tricks of the Heart looks like it's going to be a long one.   
> Comments are always welcome!


	3. A Room of One's Own

Your name is Vriska Serket, and it’s been a long day. You’ve trekked across the campus twice today and the third trip it’s taking to get back to your dorm room is proving to be a bit much. Your bag feels as though it weighs 8 million pounds, and you curse as its strap bites deeper into your shoulder. While you admit “8 million pounds” may be a slight overstatement, it is pretty heavy with all of your textbooks in it. Despite your weariness though, today hasn’t really been that bad. You like your classes well enough, and you’ve already met one person you can tolerate. You take a deep breath and pause for a moment, looking around. The sun is slowly setting, the air has reached a nice, cool temperature, and all around you you can hear the soft sound of insects buzzing. A warm breeze glides through the air, reminiscent of Summer’s end. Fellow university students are taking advantage of the pleasant temperature, and you see many people sitting together on the campuses’ green spaces and outdoor tables, comparing stories of their first day at Skaia. You feel a slight twinge of envy at how care-free they look, as if everything’s just right in the world. 

You bite back your small bitterness as you climb the steps to the second floor of your dormitory. You’ve gotta admit, it’s not bad for college housing. The hallways are the same light blue as the study area from this morning, and the floors are a light brown; probably meant to look like wood flooring. There are lots of flyers tacked up on the bulletin boards lining the hall, and you make a mental note to take a look at them later. Among the flyers, at least a dozen or more are extracurricular sign-ups. Who knows, maybe there’s a group for Spider Webs of the World or Advanced Hypnosis. A girl can dream! 

You smile a bit at the idea as you pull out the keys to your room. It’s all the way at the end of the hall, and is separated from the neighboring dorm by a supply closet. 

You’d gotten to Skaia late yesterday afternoon, and you’d been so tired you went to sleep soon after unpacking. Combine that with the rush you were in this morning, and you haven’t spent much time in this room at all so far. The door swings inward, and for the first time you really take in its small interior.

Continuing the rest of the building’s theme, the walls are light blue. The floor however is beige carpet, and you remind yourself to see if anyone has a vacuum you can borrow as you accidentally step on the few bits of cereal you’d dropped this morning. You let your bag drop to the ground and sit down on your bed. It consists of a twin-sized mattress covered with plain white sheets and takes up one wall of your room, along with a wooden bedside table. Said table is currently occupied by an alarm clock, your glasses case, a lamp, and a worn paperback filled with earmarked pages. The next wall is mostly taken up with a metal desk set below the room’s single window. It overlooks a group of trees and a small bench, and should let in a decent amount of light during the day. You’ll have to fix that.

The third wall, and fourth half-wall, is home to your closet, a narrow armoire-mirror combo, and a laundry hamper. It’s not much, being half the size of the other dorms; but hey, it’s yours. Most people would be ecstatic to have a single room on their first year, and while you certainly won’t mind the privacy, it’s yet another reminder. People don’t trust you.

The school claimed they’d simply already filled the rest of the dorms. Your placement was purely coincidental, they’d said. But you know better. They’re not taking any more chances with you than they have to, and honestly, you can’t say that you blame them. You’d be careful with someone like you too.

It still stings though, and you feel your shoulders slump as you continuing looking at your impersonal surroundings. There are no posters on the walls, no useless knick-knacks or souvenirs from past trips on the armoire, not a single photo on the shelf built into the wall; nothing to give any indication of your personality or life up until this point. The clothes in your closet are the only things that give any hint to your taste, and they’re currently hidden from view. Even if the closet door was open though, all there’d be to look at are several pairs of jeans, an assortment of long and short sleeved tops, in shades of blue and black respectively, a few tanks, a swimsuit that may or may not fit, and a black hoodie. There’s a box too, shoved as far back in the corner as it would go, but you’re not thinking about that now. 

Instead, you’re gazing thoughtfully at your phone, scrolling down the short list of contacts until you reach its newest addition.  
Your thumb hovers over the send button.

Rose invited you to have dinner with her. Said she’d heard of this great little café nearby that has some kind of chocolate cake that’s to die for. Much as you’d kill for some chocolate right now, you’d said you’d have to see how you were feeling. Long first day and all. She gave you her Pesterchum code and said to feel free to message her anytime. 

You’d sworn to yourself that you wouldn't get attached to anyone, but looking around your new room... you think maybe there’s a fine line between not getting too attached and being a hermit. You've done the isolation thing before, it doesn't suit you. Plus, it would be a crime not to investigate the potential of good cake, wouldn't it? _New starts don’t involve starting crime sprees_ , you reason with yourself. 

That settles it, you hit the button.

[AG] Rose?  
[TT] Hello Vriska, how are you?  
[AG] Good. How are you?  
[TT] I’m fine thank you.  
[AG] You mentioned something about cake earlier?  
[TT] Why yes, yes I did. Would you like to try out the cafe I mentioned?  
[AG] Do they have a lot of cake?  
[TT] I’ve been told there are obscene amounts of cake.  
[AG] Then what are we w8ing for???????? >::::)  
[TT] I have no idea. Which dorm room are you in? Give me five minutes and I’ll be right there.  
[AG] It’s 18, last one down the hall.  
[TT] A8 on the vending machine, 8-legged creature on your bag, substituting the eight sound with an 8, and now 18 as your dorm room. I believe I’m sensing a theme here.  
[AG] What a coincidence! I 8elieve I’m sensing an acute feeling of hunger.  
[TT] Message received. Would food constitute as a sufficient bribe should I want to ask you more about this quirk?  
[AG] 8uy me food and I’ll sell you a soul.  
[TT] I’ll keep that in mind.  


Rose says she’ll see you soon, and despite your earlier misgivings, you feel a small smile tug at your lips as you put away your phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is a most grave crime indeed not to investigate good cake. Comments always welcome!


	4. Who ya gonna call?

You put away your phone, and feel a small grimace play across your features. 

“That was the Chinese take-out place we ordered from,” you call across the room to Dave. He’s currently looking through the DVDs you laid out for movie night. From what little you can see of his expression, thanks to the sunglasses he still won’t take off, it looks like he’s taking the task way too seriously. 

“Yeah, and?” He calls back, eyes still trained on your lovingly worn copies of Ghostbusters and several Nic Cage classics. 

“They’re swamped with orders. It’s going to be at least another twenty minutes before they get here.”

Dave goes still, and you groan inwardly, knowing what’s going to come next. Sure enough, he slowly lifts his head, and you can feel his eyes boring through the thin layer of his sunglasses. 

“They have failed us,” he says, rising from the couch in one smooth motion. 

“Dave, no,” you say as he turns towards the wall above his bed. He pretends not to hear you, and you sigh as he lifts his katana from the wall.

“They have failed us,” he repeats, holding the katana so it catches the last bit of sunlight from outside. “This cannot stand.” He looks very dramatic holding a sword silhouetted by the light shining through the window. Or at least, he would if he weren’t still wearing his apple juice helmet. 

“What are you going to do?” You ask. “Challenge the restaurant employees to a battle of honor? Because I’m pretty sure that tradition died out a few centuries ago.” You wish you could say you were being sarcastic when you asked this, but after the three weeks you spent at Dave’s place last summer, you know firsthand that this is an all-too-real possibility. It’s probably a good thing you’ve never had any plans of moving to Austin, because now you’re pretty much banned from every restaurant in a 10-mile radius of the Strider household, thanks to Dave and his older brother. 

Well, except for that one Thai place. All’s fair in harmless pranks and war in your book, but sadly the manager didn’t agree. Neither did the employees, the cops, the Girl Scouts, or that elderly man with the glass eye… Heh, yeah.

That one was on you.

“John!” Dave exclaims, bringing you back to the present as he lowers the katana. “Honor battles are a Japanese thing. You can’t just lump a bunch of cultures together like that; that’s racist! Uncool man. Uncool.” He shakes his head slowly in disapproval and turns away. 

“Uh-huh. Says the Texan with a katana,” you reply. 

“HEY,” he growls, whipping around. He points the sword at you like an accusing finger. “Don’t you be mocking my blade." he tells you, laying on his usually subtle Texas accent extra-heavily. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you laugh as he nods, satisfied. Apparently he’s decided that tonight is not the night for an honor battle, and he goes to return the katana to its rightful place on the wall. You chuckle a bit as he strikes a fake slash at one of his pillows with the sword before hanging it up

God, this year may be a long one with Dave as your roommate, but it’s also going to be great. You still can’t believe just how lucky you got. You’ve got one of your best friends as a roommate, another who shares at least one of your classes and is on the same campus, and yet another who’s within easy driving distance. You got into the school of your choice; you’re looking forward to your classes, and despite not being here in person, your dad continues to be a supporting presence in your life. You’re not sure how it happened, but you’ve kind of go it made. 

Dave goes back to looking through DVDs, all potential plans of storming the restaurant forgotten, and you take a minute to just sit back and relax.  
Your eyes wander over the room around you, still unfamiliar despite the well-known clutter of yours and Dave’s stuff. It’s so weird to think that one day this place will seem as familiar to you as the back of your hand. 

Your dorm, while not particularly fancy, is actually pretty cool. The walls are the same light blue as a lot of the campuses corridors, and the carpet is a light beige color. You’re pretty sure that won’t be the case after a year of you and Dave living here; but hey, that’s what steam-cleaners are for, right? Anyways, it’s what’s in your room that actually matters.

Neither of you have gotten around to putting up your posters yet, but soon the walls will be covered with them. Right now the only thing hanging from the walls is Dave’s katana, conveniently located just above his bed, and a calendar by the door. Somehow, you managed to make him take the top bunk. Score one for Egbert!

Dave insisted on wedging this sagging brown sofa into the dorm and now it’s taking up most of the room’s center. There’s just enough space for a coffee table to sit in front of the couch, and for a one-level shelf for the T.V. to rest on. Honestly, you’re fine with him bringing in any furniture he wants. As long as in exchange the dorm room stays a puppet-free zone. 

The wall to the left of the door hosts both of your dressers and a narrow, full-length mirror. The bunk bed claims about half of the next wall, and beyond that is a window and one of the two desks. Along the third wall is the second desk, the closet, and the empty space you and Dave had a brief argument over. By argument of course, you mean you both shouted “I call dibs!” at the same time and spent the next ten minutes debating who said it first.

You wanted to use it as a spot for a mini-fridge, while he wanted to use it as a home for his turntables. Long story short, the battle, as many seem to be in hindsight, was stupid and had an easy solution that could’ve prevented the whole thing. Said solution was helpfully pointed out to you both by Rose. 

She suggested that you purchase a table top or wooden board and support it on one side with a mini fridge and on the other with a drawer of equal height. That way you get your mini fridge, and Dave gets a place to put his turntables. Plus, extra storage space. You and Dave agreed that this was the best course of action. 

Rose has always been good at thinking of things like that. You’re pretty sure it ties into her love of psychology. To her, people are like puzzles. If she can figure out how the pieces fit together, she can figure out why they build the image they do; and when a piece is missing or damaged, she can find a way to fix it and make it whole again. At least, that’s what you gathered from the long analogy she uses to explain it to people. To be honest, you also think it has to do with her mom. Ms. LaLonde was the greatest puzzle of Rose’s life.

She was also the puzzle Rose never got a chance to solve. 

“JOHN!” Dave shouts. You whip your head up just in time to meet his questioning stare before a knock at the door diverts your attention. 

“You back on Earth, Space Cadet Egbert?” He asks. “You zoned out there for a few minutes.”

“Huh? Oh, sorry about that!” You say, glancing at the alarm clock on your dresser. It’s already been ten minutes. Geez, time flies when you’re distracted! “I was just thinking-”

“Yeah well, I have a feeling whoever is at the door was just thinking about leaving,” Dave interrupts, opening the door. “That was the third time they knocked on the door!” He peers out into the hallway, which is already filled with students wandering from one room to another. “Oh shit it was the delivery guy! Hey,” he calls. “Wait up!” Before you can say anything else Dave is running down the hall, several people stopping to stare at him as he rushes by. 

You walk to the doorway of your room, and notice that unlike last night, your door isn’t one of the only ones closed. While classes officially started today, most people arrived a day or so in advance. This resulted in last night being a sort of “welcome to college” party throughout the dorm. You met some really cool people, played a few video games, watched movies, and witnessed several hilarious failures involving a keg someone tried to smuggle in. Emphasis on “tried”. You’re looking forward to more times like that, but tonight you’re glad to just relax. Plus, you could do with a good night’s sleep. After last night, you just barely made it to your Biology lab. At least you had the good sense not to schedule any classes first thing in the morning! 

Oh, that reminds you! Speaking of that lab, who should you see when you first walked into the classroom today but that guy who bumped into you by the coffee stand! He was seated a few rows back, and glanced at you once before turning away with a scowl. You think that might just be his default expression though.  
When you left he was already gone, but it seemed like he was really interested in what the professor had to say. He didn’t ask a lot of questions, but the couple of times you turned around to listen to other people speak he was either furiously scribbling down notes or staring with rapt attention at the professor as she answered. Maybe you should try talking to him sometime… You’re still not sure what you hope to do with your interest in biology, assuming you choose to pursue it at all, but it sure would be nice to be friends with someone who shares you fascination! Rose prefers psychology (duh), Jade listens politely, but she’d rather discuss the biology of animals than people, and Dave…well Dave has begun claiming he is allergic to “the dreaded biologies” and covers his face and slowly backs away or hides behind the couch whenever you bring it up.

Speak of the devil, here comes Dave now. And, oh, he’s got the food! 

“The mission was a success,” Dave announces, setting the bags on the coffee table as you close the door behind you. “I have conquered and gotten the foodstuffs with minimal fatalities.” You sit down on the couch and begin unpacking the food. You pop open one of the square containers as Dave places whatever movie he’s chosen into the DVD player. The mouth-watering smell of spring rolls greets you in a wave of steam, and you happily take a bite out of one of them. 

“A sucsheful mishon indeed,” you agree. You swallow, and go to grab two cans of soda from the cooler you brought in until the mini-fridge actually becomes a thing that exists in your room. You hand one to Dave and sit back as the long-outdated previews begin. After all that time it took him to decide, and Dave still went with Ghostbusters, despite the fact that you’ve both seen it enough to recite every line. It’s decisions like these that remind you why you and he are such good friends. 

“It’s too bad Rose couldn’t do something with us tonight,” you say. The four of you went to lunch together yesterday, and afterwards Rose drove with Jade over to her campus to help her get settled in. You called Jade after classes finished to see how her first day was, she sounded really happy, but you haven’t spoken to Rose once today with all the mayhem… “I feel bad that we couldn’t get together today.”

“Eh, I think she’ll get over it,” Dave shrugs. “I talked to her earlier. She “met a fellow wanderer in the confusing maze that is the halls of Skaia”. Turns out they’re both learning how to psychoaggravate people and last I heard Rose was going to see if said girl had plans.”

“You mean psychoanalyze?” You ask just as the movie starts. 

“Same thing, Egbert,” he replies. “Same thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait for this chapter! On the upside, long wait = I'm almost done with the next chapter!  
> On another note, there's now a Tumblr page for WBOTH. It can be found here: http://8eautiful8luechaos.tumblr.com/ (you may have to copy-and-paste the url.) 
> 
> It's looking a bit bland right now, which leads to my question: Would you all be interested in me drawing some sketches of the characters and posting them online? Comments and questions are always welcome, both here and on Tumblr!


	5. Hello Awkwardness, My Old Friend

“So,” you struggle to say between fits of laughter, “was this before or after you diagnosed his attitude as a result of his “repressed homoerotic tendencies”?” 

“Oh definitely after,” Rose laughs. “I swear, I had no clue a person’s face could turn that particular shade of red! He made a point of avoiding me after that,” she adds with a smile. 

“I bet he did,” you smirk. You’ve been at this café with Rose for over an hour, and so far, you’ve had a really nice time. You’re sitting across from her in a booth tucked back into one corner of the café, and are currently discussing some of her more memorable high school diagnosis. The café itself is about medium in size. With the low lighting, which creates plenty of shadowy little areas much to your delight, music murmuring through the speakers, and cake that truly is worth mass homicide, you feel strangely at home. 

Of course, the strangeness may stem from the fact that you’ve never had a real home. But hey, when you’ve got a second helping of triple chocolate cake, who cares? You’ve got better things to focus on. 

You scoop another heaping forkful of cake into your mouth and sigh.

Much better.

“Speaking of certain tendencies,” she says with a smirk of her own, “You and that cake seem to be getting along pretty well.” Rose has gotten a slice of something strawberry flavored and coated with frosting, and she’d laughed at your amazement as you took in the sheer size of the cake selection when you first arrived. Every single thing looked good, and you’ve resigned yourself to eating here every chance you get. It will be a challenge to pull yourself away from the triple chocolate, but you think with a little determination you can probably try each cake by the end of the year. Twice. 

“Ywou’re jus jealous,” you mutter around a mouthful of cake, your eyes closed. When you open them a moment later, you see her smirk turning into a softer smile. 

“What?” You ask, your next forkful of cake freezing mid-way to your mouth. 

“You uh,” she says with a quiet laugh, “you’ve a bit of cake on your nose.” 

“Huh? Oh damn you’re right,” you say, looking for a napkin. Well that’s embarrassing. Note to self: keep private moments with food to a minimum in public. 

You look up to make a joking apology about having been raised in a barn, when you see that Rose has already found a napkin. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it,” she says, leaning forward. She’s barely made any contact when years of deeply ingrained instincts kick in. Your response is immediate as you violently push yourself away from her touch, and successfully ram your head into the back of the booth. 

“Oww, shit!” You exclaim, rubbing the back of your head, relieved when it comes away without any blood. Your relief quickly fades to knot of anxiety though as you look up and see that the people at the surrounding tables are staring at you. Your gaze sweeps over to Rose and you feel the knot in your stomach grow tighter as you take in the look of mortification on her face. 

_Way to go, Serket._

“Vriska-,” she begins to say before you cut her off.

“I’m sorry,” you say, grabbing your bag from beside you. Your anxiety is quickly morphing into frustrated embarrassment, and you refuse to meet her gaze. 

You can feel the curious stares burning into your skin, and your only thought is to leave before you draw more stupid attention. Your first day and you’ve already managed to fuck things up. You shouldn’t have come. You should’ve just stayed in your room like always and-

“Vriska, wait!” Rose says again, standing up and efficiently blocking your path to the door. Before you can say anything else, she turns to glare at anyone still gawking. You see several people turn away instantly at the force of her stare, and within seconds the café has gone back to its normal flow of conversation and murmuring music. You see someone behind the front counter throw a questioning glance your way, having just noticed the commotion in the far corner, but he too looks away after checking that nothing appears to be wrong. 

“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” she says, “I’m sorry. Please stay?” She asks, gesturing to the booth, and you realize that you’re both still standing. 

Freshly embarrassed, you quickly sit down. You start to speak, but are cut off. 

“I’m sorry,” she says again. “We were laughing and joking together and I didn’t even give it any consideration and I should have kept in mind that dumb as it is not everyone is comfortable with it, not to mention you’ve only just met me and I’ve made you so uncomfortable I really am sorry for that, and-” This time you cut her off, holding up a hand for her to stop.

“Wait. Back up,” you say. “I’m missing something here. What are you talking about?” You ask, shaking your head, confused.

“I-uh I believed,” she stammers, looking equally confused. “I thought you knew. Isn’t that why…?” She trails off; making a gesture with her hands that could be interpreted as someone hitting their head against a booth. It could also be interpreted as a spasming shadow puppet minus the shadow, but you decide not to point that out. 

It’s takes you a minute to figure out her meaning, and even then it’s so absurd you can’t quite believe it. _That’s_ what she thinks this about? You bite back the ludicrous urge to laugh, because while this is ridiculous, it’s also a relief. She doesn’t know. “You think I flinched because you’re gay?” You asked her bluntly. “That’s absurd.”

“It was a bit more than a flinch…” she says under her breathe before looking up at you again.

“Rose, I don’t care if you’re attracted to the flowers in that vase over there,” you say, gesturing to the floral arrangement on the front counter. “Much less to girls. You just watched me groan over a slice of cake and laugh at your stories of diagnosing high school pricks as having homoerotic tendencies. Obviously, I’m not prudish,” you say, watching as her expression loses some of its worry. 

“No, I suppose you’re not,” she replies. You both sit there quietly for a few minutes before you sigh and decide to answer the question you know is on the tip of her tongue. 

“I don’t like to be touched,” you explain. “By anyone. It’s just the way I am. Handshakes and stuff are fine, as long as I’m expecting it. But anything else, just…no.”

“Oh,” she says. “I’m sorry then, for encroaching on your personal space,” she adds, and the sincerity in her voice puts some of your own tension at ease. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you tell her, your tone lightening. The faster you can move on from the awkwardness of this better. “You had no way of knowing.” 

“Thank you,” she says, though you’re not sure what for. You shrug and say,

“No problem. You did buy me cake after all,” you smirk. “That’s like a “get out of jail free” card right there.”

“I thought you said it would get me a soul?” She asks, beginning to smile again. 

“Not this time,” you smile back. “You’ve used up all your cake-related favors for the evening.”

“Drat,” she says, looking vaguely disappointed. “And I didn’t even get a chance to ask you about your affinity for the number 8.”

“No much to tell,” you shrug. “I just like it. It feels-” you stop mid-sentence. “Right,” you substitute. “It just feels right. OCD maybe.” Not your best save, but Rose seems to accept it readily enough. “Sorry there’s not much of a story to it,” you add.

“That’s quite alright,” she says, and you let yourself relax. “Though since you failed to provide an interesting story,” she continues with a devious grin. “I think it’s only fair that I get to ask you something else.”

“Depends on what it is,” you say, narrowing your eyes in suspicion. 

“It’s more of a promise really,” she says, still grinning. “To atone for your lackluster story today; you, Vriska Serket, must meet me here at exactly this time each week for the foreseeable future, for cake and conversation. Preferably without denting the café’s décor again.”

“Wha-I didn’t hit it _that_ hard!” You exclaim. You turn to examine the wooden booth behind you. “Did I?” Rose just laughs, and a moment later you’re doing the same. You shake hands on your agreement with mock seriousness, and as you both dissolve into another fit of laughter, you feel all your residual discomfort fade away. In the back of your mind you think, _Maybe, just maybe, this whole friendship thing could work out for once after all. A girl can dream, can’t she?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the long wait! Life has been...hectic to say the least. I've got a question for my dear readers though, any ideas for the name of this café? *Spoiler alert: Kanaya works there, and I'm considering having it belong to her family. Nothing is set in stone though, so all suggestions are welcome! As always, thanks for reading!


	6. Rise and Shine a.k.a Dave is grumpy in the morning and no one beats Rose at the Guess What game.

“Am I dreaming, or is that a fully conscious Strider I spy?” You ask from your spot on the couch, shocked to see Dave awake so early. Well, early for him. For the rest of the world it’s a little past 8:00 a.m. 

“You’d make a shitty spy and the sass is un-needed, Egbert,” he replies, grimacing at the morning light coming through the window despite already having on his shades. 

“Shut up!” You scoff. “I’d make a _great_ spy! I’d be the trickiest of spies, master of subtle observance and diversion. I could sneak past all the evil guys like Nic Cage did in that one movie-”

“Stop,” Dave says holding up a hand. “I’m cutting off this drooling session before it starts. I have an interview to get to,” he announces, standing up and walking towards the bathroom. 

“Wait, you have a _what??_ ” You ask in disbelief. 

“An interview,” he repeats, walking to the bathroom. 

“When?” You ask, “With who??” 

Dave pauses at the door. “John. I just woke up. Can we save the why where what and who questions until _after_ I’ve gone to the bathroom?” You can vaguely tell that behind his sunglasses, Dave is rolling his eyes.

“Oh come on, at least tell me where!” You needle. “I’m your roommate, holding out on me is against the Code!” 

He sighs. “If I tell you where I’m going will you let me go take a whizz?”

“Yep!” You grin.

“Skaia radio,” he admits, and without waiting for your reaction he closes the door between you.

“Someone’s a joy in the morning,” you note, still smiling.

“Heard that!” He calls, muffled by the door.

“Eww man don’t talk to me while you’re in the bathroom!” You shout. You don’t catch whatever he shouts back, probably something about manning up, because at that moment your phone buzzes. You check the Pesterchum app and smile.

[TT] Good morning, John.  
[GT] hey rose!  
[TT] How are you today?  
[GT] good thanks. how are you?  
[GT] oh guess what!  
[TT] Oh John, you know I hate “guess what”.  
[TT] An inordinate amount of the time I guess right and then you are disappointed.  
[TT] And I am good as well, thank you.  
[GT] not this time you won’t!  
[GT] dave has an INTERVIEW  
[TT] Today at the Skaia Radio Station, yes.  
[GT]...  
[GT] why do i even try?  
[TT] Hope springs eternal.  
[TT] Really though, it’s not all that surprising. We’ve always known how intent Dave is on pursuing a career in rapping and sharing his “mad beats” with the world. Given the difficulty of finding a job in that field that will provide a sufficient cash flow directly off the proverbial bat, radio is a clear stepping stone for him.  
[TT] Despite his seeming unwillingness to plan ahead and blatant commitment issues, most likely stemming from a turbulent childhood and no prior experience with stability, Dave is actually quite good at setting and achieving his goals.  
[GT] so youre saying dave is the man with a plan?  
[TT] Precisely.  
[GT] well good for him! this could be a really nice opportunity for him.  
[TT] Indeed.  
[GT]...  
[GT] how long do you think it will be before he tries to convince the station to play his music?  
[TT] I would give it a day, at most.  
[TT] Sorry to cut our conversation short, John. I just realized how late it is. Time has an odd way of getting away from me. I need to get going.  
[GT] does someone have plans? ;) You didn’t mention having any early classes today  
[TT] Yes, actually. I promised Vriska, the fellow student I mentioned yesterday, that she and I would get together and try to familiarize ourselves with the campus.  
[GT] uh-huh. sure.  
[GT] and is that the only thing youre planning to get familiar with?  
[TT] I have no idea what you’re suggesting.  
[GT] are you sure? what if I do this? *raises eyebrows*  
[TT] Than I am shocked and appalled by your vulgar suggestion that I would attempt such a thing with someone I have only just met, and sigh at your crass use of eyebrows.  
[TT] Obviously if that were my intention I would have provided her with dinner first.  
[TT] Vriska and I are acquaintances who will hopefully become friends. That is all.  
[GT] don’t worry rose, i’m just joking with you. that’s my thing, remember? :)  
[GT] it’s my code of maximum pranksterosity, my mantra of tomfoolery, my mission statement of shenanigans.  
[TT] Yes, I well remember your tome of Sassacre.  
[GT] general sassacre, rose! general.  
[GT] he’s not just some run of the mill prankster who stuck whoopee cushions on chairs or offered people mousetrap gum.  
[GT] he’s a legend.  
[TT] My apologies.  
[TT] Both to you and the General.  
[GT] hmmm  
[TT] ?  
[TT] Was my apology insufficient?  
[GT] what?  
[GT] oh! no, you’re fine rose!  
[GT] sorry, i was just distracted  
[GT] hearing about dave’s internship reminded me that i’d planned to find a place to work here on campus.  
[GT] have you heard of any places hiring?  
[TT] I can’t say that I have looked, actually. I will keep a vigilant eye out though.  
[GT] thanks, rose! :)  
[TT] Of course. In the meantime, perhaps you could check the bulletin boards throughout the campus on your way to class? I believe there are several in the university’s library.  
[GT] i’ll do that!  
[TT] Best of luck to you, John.  
[tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased trolling ghostlyTrickster [GT]

You put down your phone and hear the door behind you open. “What time is your interview?” You ask Dave as he walks out of the bathroom. 

“9:30,” he replies, less hostile now that he’s fully awake. He usually is once he’s fixed his hair and splashed some water on his face. You just hope he mopped up whatever water must have gotten on the floor. Slipping pranks are funny until someone cracks their head on the tile. Or breaks an arm. Sorry, Nigel. 

“Have you seen my shoes?” Dave asks you distractedly, taking a red shirt out of the closet. 

“I think they got kicked under the coffee table last night,” you reply. “Hold on, I’ll check.” You peer under the table and sure enough, there lies one of Dave’s pairs of black shoes. You pull them out from beneath the table and stand up. “Here you go ma-” You’re cut off as a pillow hits you square in the face. “What the heck, Dave?!” You exclaim. 

“I hadn’t finished putting on my jeans,” he answers nonchalantly, buttoning his pants. “Gotta protect my maidenly innocence don’t I? Just because we’re living together now doesn’t mean you’re getting a free show, Egbert.” 

You roll your eyes. “I think I liked you better when you lived half way across the country,” you quip.

“Distance makes the heart grow fonder,” he replies. He takes the shoes from you and puts them on before going to grab his keys off the table. “I’ve got to go, try not to miss me too much,” he says, walking to the door.

“Easier said than done Dave,” you reply with mock seriousness. “I’m going to be all alone. Left in the dark, no one to talk to for who knows how long...Remember me for who I was, alright, Dave? Not the shadow of a man I may become.” 

He stares at you for a moment before shaking his head and turning back towards the door as you laugh.

“Egbert, you’re like a golden retriever,” he says, opening the door. “You can get along with almost anyone. And you don’t have any classes until this afternoon. Go outside. Sniff a tree, chase a Frisbee...make some new friends!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. It's been a bit longer than I intended between chapters, but I do have some good news. The next chapter is already done! I'll leave this decision up to the readers, post the next chapter now or wait until I've made some progress on the following chapter? The completed chapter is a full chapter on Vriska's past, as well as some clues into what led her to where she is now.


	7. Staged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tense-switching in this chapter is intentional.

_“Vriska. This isn’t how you make friends,” she said, her voice more resigned than scornful. Her face usually seemed tired whenever you walked into the office._

_“So?” You retorted, not meeting her gaze. You were currently busy seeing how many times you could kick the desk in front of you before she finally gave up talking. Not enough to dent the stupid desk or break your toes, just enough to make a “thump” noise each time. It was calming. Last time you had gotten to eight three times._

_“Don’t you want to have friends?” She asked._

_You paused for a moment before shaking your head and scowling. “Don’t need them. I’ve got me.” And I’m the best, you thought._

_“That’s not really the same thing,” she continued, frowning. “Don’t you want someone to talk to? Friends you can pass time with?”_

_“Time passes whether you’re alone or not,” you said. “And besides, I used to play with them, but then we grew up. We don’t play games anymore because we’re not babies. We’re going to start high school next year.” Speaking of time, you wish she would stop wasting yours. Usually you had some kind of notice that you were getting dragged into Miss Fakey-Smiles office. Or, “Miss Lawrence”, as you had been reminded last time you called her something more fitting. You had irons in the fire, the last ones of the school year, and here she was throwing you off schedule. Them’s the breaks, you guessed, annoyed. God, you couldn’t wait to be out of middle school. The only thing you were looking forward to was walking across the stage tomorrow and maybe-oh-so-quickly flipping off this stupid place as a way of saying goodbye._

_“I see...” She said, making a note in one of the folders she always kept on a shelf next to her desk. This one was obviously yours, but you couldn’t help but notice that it had suddenly gotten a lot thicker. If she would leave the stupid room for a minute you could find out why. Or maybe you could come back tomorrow and pick the lock a little...it would be the last day of school, for students at least, and Miss Nosy-McNaggerson didn’t work on Fridays._

_“Vriska?” She asked, her voice raising a bit. “Were you listening to me?”_

_Damn. You got distracted by your plan. Not that she needed to know that, of course. “Maybe,” you shrugged. “Maybe not.”_

_“Vriska...” she sighed. Definitely more resigned this time. Good. That usually meant you were done here._

_“I asked you if the games you mentioned were the ones you played with Tavros. Tavros Nitram?”_

_You froze. “That was an accident,” you said, trying to keep your voice level. “We were all playing a game and Tavros had an accident.”_

_“I know Vriska, I’m simply asking you if the games you mentioned were the ones you were playing then,” she said, her voice suddenly even and calm. Like the calm before a big fucking storm. You shifted in your seat a little before answering._

_“Yes, it was a make-believe game,” you said, choosing your words carefully. The more childish it sounded the better. That was what She had told you._

_“I see,” she said, her eyes boring into your skull. You still didn’t look her in the eyes. It’s not like you were SCARED or anything. Fear was for the weak. But She told you to stop staring at people. It made them uneasy. That was why you’d started doing it of course, you wanted people to know not to mess with you. You wanted them to know that they couldn’t scare you. You were stronger than that._

_“Vriska,” she said again. “You mentioned before that you don’t need people to talk to because you have you.”_

_“...Yeah?” You replied, suspicious. Your stomach was starting to feel cold. Something about this wasn’t right._

_“Does your voice ever talk to you to keep you company?” She asked you._

_“What do you mean?” You asked. “That doesn’t make sense.” Except that it did. You knew what she was asking. But you’re weren’t crazy, so she can fuck off._

_“Do you ever think to yourself,” she reiterated, “like you’re having a conversation in your head?”_

_You were done with this. She didn’t have any reason to be asking you these questions. “You got me,” you said sarcastically, holding your hands up in mock defeat. “I just outright chat with myself 28/7. There’s no shutting me up, no matter how often I tell myself to be fucking quiet.”_

_“Uh-huh,” she said, writing something else down. You couldn’t believe this._

_“Oh my GOD! You’re not actually writing that down, are you???????? God, it was just a joke!” You sneered._

_She frowned at you. “What happened to Tavros was no joke, Vriska. He was very seriously injured.”_

_“I know!” You exclaimed. “Do you see me laughing? It was bad, I get it, but why are you harassing ME about it? We were all there!!!!!!!!”_

_“That may be true,” she said slowly._

_“Of course it’s true!” You responded._

_“But you were the last person anyone saw with Tavros,” she finished calmly._

_“Hold on, anyone? You just doubted me on whether there was even anyone else around!” You shout. This is wrong. This shouldn’t be happening. You already talked to the police; that was two weeks ago. You said everything She told you to. So what’s this lady’s deal????????_

_“I know there were other people playing the game with you and Tavros, Vriska,” she continues. “But the last time anyone can remember seeing Tavros before the accident, he was with you.”_

_“That doesn’t mean I had anything to do with it!” You yell. “You said it yourself, Tavros had an ACCIDENT. He FELL.” He’s always been clumsy; it’s not that hard to believe._

_“Is that what happened, Vriska?” She asked._

_“Of course it is,” you say. She was staring at you even harder now, you could feel it. It was like being under a magnify glass. Did she know something the police didn’t? Was that it?_

_No. How would she? She was just a school counselor; she wouldn’t have any information the police didn’t. They’d already decided it was an accident. You were in the clear. Weren’t you? You did everything She told you to, She said it would all go away-_

_Oh._

_Oh god, what if She’s getting rid of you? What if this is what She meant when She said it would all go away? Did that include you????????_

_No. No that can’t be it. It CAN’T be. It can’t. You just need to get out of here, and everything will be fine._

_“Since when are so interested in this?” You sneer, trying to divert the attention from yourself. “The police already took care of everything.”_

_“Yes,” she agrees slowly. “They did.”_

_“Then are we done here?” You snap, suddenly feeling like you could jump out of your skin. You’re leaving NOW. Whether she tells you you can or not._

_“Not quite,” she says. You stand up anyways._

_“Why? What did you have me dragged in here for?” You ask, fed up. “It’s the second-to-last day of school for Pete’s sake!”_

_“Do you know what Tavros said when he woke up in the hospital, Vriska?”_

_“I don’t know,” you reply. “Hey, I can’t feel my toes!" You already know he didn’t say anything; he hit his head when he fell. It was in the case records._

_“He said he didn’t remember anything,” she answered for you. Well DUH. Thanks for the shocking news!_

_“Yeah?” You say, taking a step towards the door. “That tends to happen when you hit your head.”_

_“True,” she agrees. “But sometimes lost memories are only gone temporarily.” You freeze._

_..._

_“I went to visit him in the hospital yesterday,” she continues._

_Creep._

_“How’s he doing?” You ask, forcing your tone to remain casual. Did he say something?????????_

_“Alright,” she answers. “He’s quite upset, naturally. Anyone in his situation would be. Though he’s quite the trooper.”_

_Yeah right, you think. Tavros has always been weak... Maybe you should have gone to check on him..._

_“He was too tired to talk for long, and his memory really is quite spotty. He may even have permanent memory loss.”_

_If you have nothing, then why are you fishing?_

_“But sometimes, even if our mind doesn’t actively remember an event, our subconscious does,” she finishes, looking at you. You realize then that you’ve been staring her in the eyes. So why do you feel like she’s the one whose got you pinned with her gaze?_

_“That’s interesting,” you say, walking the last couple of steps to the door without breaking eye contact. “Thanks for the psychology lesson.” She says nothing for a moment, and you finally turn to leave._

_“He flinched when I said your name,” she says, but you’re already walking away, pretending not to hear._

_The last period has already ended, and the hallways have emptied of all but a few stragglers. They see the look on your face and quickly find a reason to turn away. You walk to your locker and pull out the few items you have stored there. You’d planned to clean out your locker tomorrow, but now you doubt that will be possible. Not once She finds out. This was far too close._

_You sling your blue beat-up backpack over your shoulder and head back towards the main doors. You’ve got a long walk ahead of you, since She wasn’t picking you up today. You pass several posters on your way out, all reminding students of the time of tomorrow’s graduation. Too bad. You walk through the school’s doors for what is more than likely the last time without looking back. There’s nothing here for you._

_The next afternoon though, as you and Her drive through the town pulling a U-Haul behind you, you can’t shake the feeling that maybe not everyone in this place feels quite so ready to let go of you._

........

You wake up slowly, your mind still muddled with old memories. You blink, and groan as you push yourself into a sitting position. Your make-shift curtain has fallen down, and sunlight is pouring into your room. You take a deep breath, put on your glasses, and accept that the day has started. As you go about your morning rituals, you can’t help but remember. You never did get to cross that stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day. :::; ]


	8. Stay cool, Sodapop

You hear your phone buzz just as you’re stretching a stockinette over the remainder of your left arm. You frown for a moment, staring at the stump that descends just past you shoulder before tapering off into a scarred nub. The first time you saw the damage done to your arm you were horrified. Horrified, angry, shocked and...

It doesn’t matter. You’ve dwelled on the past more than enough this morning thanks to your dream. You push those thoughts to the back of your mind as you double check the inner socket of your prosthesis, making sure it’s not dirty or wearing down anywhere. Satisfied that it’s fine, you begin the now second-nature process of attaching your prosthetic into place. You might need to actually set your alarm clock tomorrow; if you’d had a class to get to this morning you wouldn’t have had time to take a shower and dry off enough before re-attaching your arm. 

Once your prosthetic is in place you reach over to pick up your phone and tap on the Pesterchum app. 

tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering arachnidsGrip [AG]

[TT] Good morning, Vriska.

Right on time. You type back a reply. 

[AG] People who say “good morning” should 8e forced to prove it.  
[TT] Fair point. I see you’re not a morning person.  
[AG] Wh8tever g8ve you that idea?  
[TT] Mostly your disdain of being awake at this gods-awful hour in the morning.  
[AG] It’s almost 8:45.  
[TT] Did I fucking stutter?  
[AG] ........  
[AG] Now I remem8er why I decided you were 8kay.  
[TT] Thank you.  
[TT] What time would you like to hit the proverbial road today?  
[AG] Give me ten more minutes to re-assem8le.  
[TT] ?  
[AG] Vriska Serket Model 2.0: Now with detachable arm! Some assem8ly required; 8attery not included.  
[TT] I understand.  
[TT] Shall I meet you outside the dorm in fifteen minutes then?  
[AG] Yep, sounds gr8. 

arachnidsGrip [AG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]

You tuck your phone into your shoulder bag, and walk into the small bathroom attached to your room. The bathroom consist of a single narrow shower stall, a toilet, and a cramped sink and counter. Above said sink is a round mirror, and you take a moment to survey your reflection.

“That’s as good as it’s going to get,” you murmur, running a brush through your hair once. With that, you walk out, grab your bag, and head outside to meet Rose.

........

“Where do you want to start?” You ask, nodding to the path in front of you. One direction leads to the main quad, and the other you think leads to the Arts building. 

...Or possibly the running track. You’re not sure.

“How about the quad?” Rose suggests, looking down at the map of the campus from yesterday. “It looks like most of the buildings stem off from there, with the exception of the physical activities center and the theatre.” 

Hah! You were right, the running track is that way! 

“Sure,” you shrug. “Works for me.” You begin walking down the path together, quiet as the steady sound of students running from one place to the next mingles with the quiet murmur of conversations shared between the many people relaxing together on benches and under shady trees. 

“So,” You say, looking over at Rose after a couple of moments.

“Yes?” She asks, eyes still on the map. She’s wearing a billowing purple ombre shirt today, along with black jeans. Looking down at your own red sneakers and old jean & t-shirt combo, you feel kind of slobby in comparison. You used to wear dark clothes with tears and jagged edges and ripped seams because they matched your reputation, but nowadays...Your wardrobe mostly consists of monochrome t-shirts, a few V-necks, and blue denim. You mentally roll your eyes. Only the finest for Vriska Serket. At least t-shirt are easy to put on though, anything with a lot of buttons or snaps is just a damn fucking pain.

“Tell me about yourself,” you say, uncomfortable with the silence. “You said you’re from New York.”

“And you said that you’ve lived in several places,” Rose replies, now looking over at you as she walks.

“Right,” you say, nodding. “So what was it like there? We got a little sidetracked yesterday-”

“What with you vandalizing the décor at Simply Spurb Café and all,” she interjects with a wink.

“A horrible accusation I will continue to deny,” you shoot back with a mock glare. You both snort at that, and a moment she begins to speak again.

“Well, often cold and cynical, for starters,” she says, sidestepping an abandoned coffee cup left on the middle of the sidewalk.

“ _Really?_ ” You ask, doing the same. “But how could you possibly come from someplace like that? You’re so optimistic and genuine!”

“Oh shut it, Spider,” she says. 

“Bitch,” you reply automatically.

“Excuse me?” She laughs.

Whoops, your bad.

“Spider Bitch is an old nickname of mine,” you explain with something halfway between a smirk and a sneer. “Well, sort of an old nickname. I don’t think the people who started it realized I knew anything about it.” Not until they found out the hard way.

“I see,” she nods. “Now tell me, did this nickname stem from your adoration of the number eight, or did your adoration of the number eight stem as a form of retaliation to this nickname?”

“The first one,” you tell her. “However, the revenge aspect didn’t hurt either,” you wink. Though honestly, you can think of several reasons people would have called you that.

None of them are flattering.

Rose just laughs in response, and you grin. You thought things over for a while last night. There are a lot of things you can’t share, a lot of things you will never share, not with Rose, and not with anyone. It’s for the best. However, you can still have acquaintances.

So long as you’re careful. 

That was the plan, _still_ is the plan, you just needed a day to adjust to your new settings. Last night was a screw up, but you’re not going to let it happen again. You’ve got your story, you’ve been practicing it for almost two years, and as far as anyone here will ever know, it’s the truth. You’re going to move on. You’re going to make a new life for yourself. You’re going to forget, and one day it really will be like it all never happened.

You’ve just got to keep your cool.

........

Your name is Dave Strider, and you are not, by any means, losing your cool. Nope. Not happening. You’ve got cool locked down like some top-secret government shit. Cool is in a maximum security prison with its own private holding cell with round the clock guards, so the public can rest safe and sound. Cool isn’t going anywhere. Then again, if you don’t do well here, neither is your career. 

No.

Stop.

Don’t think that way damn it.

You’re a Strider; you’re going to be fine. You’re always fine, no matter what. You’ve just got to chill.

You’ve got this interview (15 minutes, 23 seconds to go) in the bag. You’ve been making sick beats since before your could string together a sentence. You’ve listened to the best damn music the world has to offer since you were in the literal crib. You learned to count by clapping in time to beats, you memorized your ABCs by alphabetizing records and CDs, you learned your damn colors by- well actually that had less to do with music and more to do with all the damn felt lying around the apartment, but still. It’s not an exaggeration to say music is what’s made up your life. Aside from your friends, swords, and the fucking masterful art of irony, there are not a lot of things you truly care about.

Except for music.

And that’s why you’re here. Because no matter how much life has kicked your ass over the years and made you wonder why the hell you even try, no matter how many times you retreated to your room at night caught between yelling and shaking because Bro was in one of his moods again, no matter how many times you just felt so damn done with all the shit going on in your life, no matter what, music has always been there for you. 

Because every time when you were this close to doing the most artful fucking pirouette off the handle that this world had ever seen, every time you could hardly see straight, you could go to your turntables and let it all go. You could get lost in a sea of beats and counts and rhythm and everything else just faded the heck away. You could time every scratch perfectly until you found the perfect mix, no matter how long it took. You could pour everything you felt and everything you refused to feel into your music, and you would know.

You were going to be OKAY.

And now you’re here. 

Here, in the sense that you’re sitting in a crappy plastic chair at a small radio station waiting for an interview, but more importantly _here_. At this point in your life, when it’s starting to all come together. _Here_ where everything you’ve done is collaborating to help you down the path of your life. _Here_ , where all this metaphorical bullshit means that essentially, you’re at your starting point. You’ve made it this far, and now you’re at the part where you make your dreams a mother-fucking reality. You’re doing this bro, you’re making this happen. 

You’re here, and in 3 minutes and 47 seconds you’re going to rock this damn interview to its core.

Just then, your psychological victory is interrupted by your phone buzzing.

gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

[GG] good luck with your interview today dave!!!! :D  
[GG] not that you need it of course  
[GG] youre going to do great!!!!!!!!  
[GG] i know it ;)  
[GG] oh!!!!  
[GG] and tie your shoes silly!!! <3

gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

You look down, not even half surprised to find that one of your shoelaces is in fact, untied. You laugh quietly to yourself as you re-tie your shoe. “Thanks, Harley,” you smile.

“Dave Strider?” A tall woman calls, stepping out from the office in front of you.

“The one and only,” you say, standing up and walking over to shake her hand. 

“Kanoni Holloway,” she replies. She looks you over before nodding once, and gestures for you to follow her into her office. 

You follow without hesitation.

You’ve got this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think I'd forget about Jade, did you?  
> Also! The new and improved Tumblr page for WBOTH is officially up and running, and three characters designs have already been posted, along with some short bios and a cast list.  
> Find it here: http://8eautiful8luechaos.tumblr.com/


	9. The Wizard of Odd

You don’t got this, you realize, as the large stack of books you’d been carrying crash to the floor. 

Oops.

You look around embarrassedly as the people surrounding you go quiet for a moment, before returning to their own activities. You kneel to pick up the books just as someone walks over to you, and look up to see a student with an I.D. badge reading “Campus Library Assassin” gazing down at you. Wait, that’s not right. It says “Campus Library _Assistant_ ”. 

You may need to update you lenses again.

“Need some help there?” They ask with a raised eyebrow, kneeling down to help you gather the books. 

“Thanks!” You smile at them, trying to reel in the awkward. “Sorry,” you apologize, “I’m kind of a master klutz sometimes...”

“Don’t worry about it,” they grin as you both stand. Looking at them, you can’t quite tell their gender, and it occurs to you a moment later that they might not be male or female. Their skin is rich brown in color, and their hair is short and slightly spiked, making it look almost like they have a mini Mohawk that started to lean forward. Their eyes are dark brown, but gleam with a look you know all too well. Jollity.

You’ve found a fellow prankster. 

“I’m John,” you say quietly, none too eager to risk invoking the wrath of a wandering librarian. “John Egbert.”

They shake your hand and match your quiet tone, saying, “Nice to meet you John. I’m WV, but you can call me V for short if you want.” 

“What’s that stand for?” You ask, curious.

“Guess,” they say, winking.

You smile. Unlike Rose, you like guessing games. “Mmm...William Victoro? You try. “Whilemina Vanders? Will Vex? Whitford Vicious? Wayward Vagabond?” 

“All good guesses, particularly that last one,” they nod, “but alas, all wrong.” 

“Okay,” you chuckle, “Then what _does_ it stand for?” 

“Whatever I want it to,” they reply casually, flipping through one of the books you’d dropped. “Oh my gosh. You don’t _actually_ read these do you?!” They exclaim, holding up the book in disbelief. Its cover features a rough-and-tugged guy, scarred from years of battle and heroism; who, with a look of cold steel in his eyes, is shooting fearlessly at the enemies just out of view. 

Your taste in books is just like your taste in movies. _Epic_. Sadly though, judging by the look on their face, WV doesn’t seem to agree. 

“Boy,” they announce as loudly as they can without disturbing the library patrons around you. “You are a _fool_. Everyone on this earth with a grain of sense knows that this is the _third_ installment in the “Grit and Rage” series!” 

You’re shocked silent for a moment before breaking into a wide grin. “Do you like Nic Cage?” You ask eagerly. If he’s read “”Blood and Grit” then there’s a good chance he’s read the novel adaption of that one movie-

“Do you really have to ask?” WV interrupts. You laugh in response; just wait until you tell the others about this! 

They can never understand why you like these books, and while Jade and Dave just kind of accept it (with minimal teasing, of course) Rose has a tendency to launch into long discussions about their “obvious over-compensation”. Demonstrated by the, as she calls them, “humanized symbols of male power-fantasies embodied with photo shopped abs and egos big enough to block out the sun”. You adore Rose, but you would stab yourself in the eyes with her knitting needles before you recommended another book to her. The last one you loaned out came back chock-full of sticky-notes vividly detailing the “thinly veiled symbolism” in each chapter. You will never look at that novel the same way again. Especially not the fight scene between the two enemy rockets firing missiles at one another. Darn you, Rose. 

_Darn you_.

“Boy!” WV says, loud enough this time that a few people nearby turn to look at him. They ignore them, and raise an eyebrow at you. “Did you hear a single thing I just said?”

Nooooo.... “Ummm...yes?” You reply. Dang it, you spaced out again! You’ve got to watch that...

“So you heard the question I just asked?” They inquire.

Uhhh.....“Yes?”

“And?” WV asks, waiting for an answer.

“Maybe?” You answer, mentally kicking yourself. You are not smart sometimes.

They furrow their brow and squint suspiciously at you. “You mean you don’t know what your natural eye color is?” 

You...You have no idea what they’re talking about.

“On second thought, I might not have been 100% listening,” you admit sheepishly. No gold stars for you. 

“That’s what I thought,” they say, looking unimpressed with their arms crossed. “Am I really that boring?”

“What?? No, no! Not at all!” You exclaim. Fuck, you’re fucking up! You’re not making a good first impression...maybe this is why you met all of our best friends online, where you could just go back and see what someone else had typed if you spaced out. You’re “endlessly upbeat attitude” as the others put it can only get you so far, and-

“You’re panicking, aren’t you?” WV asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“I prefer to think of it as extreme back-pedaling,” you say, avoiding eye contact. Extreme back-pedaling out of a chasm.

“It’s alright,” they say, shrugging and seeming flippant on the matter. “I was simply asking you if you’re wearing colored contacts, or if your eyes are just naturally that ridiculously blue.” 

“Oh, no that’s just how they are,” you answer, slightly confused. You’re not sure if you should be insulted or say thank you.

“Interesting,” they nod. “So about this book,” WV says, waving the worn paperback, “would you like me to show you where the first book is?”

“Hell yeah!” You answer, happy to move back to a more understandable topic. “Lead the way!” 

You follow WV through the maze of shelves, wondering how they could already know the floor plan of the building so well. It’s only the second day of the term! A couple of minutes later they come to a sudden stop before one shelf, and quickly run a finger across the spines of one row of novels before halting. 

“Hmmmm....here we are!” WV announces, plucking a paperback from the shelf bearing a familiar name. “Blood and Grit, book one!” They smile, handing the book to you. 

“Are you some kind of Wizard??” You ask, impressed. “How did you know exactly where this would be?”

“Maybe because it’s his job,” a voice behind you says. You turn, and see a guy slightly shorter than you glaring at WV. He...well he actually looks a bit like WV the more you look at him! His features are sharper than WV’s, and his hair is shaved close to his head, but around his eyes and in his stance you can see some similarities. He doesn’t have a pierced ear though, and unlike WV’s pale grey top and black jeans, this guy is wearing what looks like- Wait, is that vest made of crime scene tape or something???  
Whatever it is, you think it practically begs for a cliché “crime against fashion” pun. Thankfully, even as a master prankster you’re not awful enough to inflict the kind of pain that would come from making said pun. You’re a professional after all; you’ve got to set _some_ kind of standard to uphold. 

“Hello, Ari,” WV sighs from behind you. “Wreaking havoc and destruction on the general public already?”

“Destruction?! No!” Ari snaps, appalled. “I’m _campus security_. I don’t cause destruction or havoc, I destroy it. See? I have the vest and everything,” he scowls, gesturing to his outfit.  
They bicker back and forth for a few minutes before falling into annoyed silence. Judging by the intensity of their current stare-off, you get the sense that both Ari and WV may have forgotten that you’re here. “Isn’t “destroying destruction” kind of an oxymoron?” You interject, trying to break the tension.

“Did you just call me a moron??” Ari snaps, turning his glare on you.

John used “awkward icebreaker”. It was not remotely effective!

“What? No, man I-” you hastily try to explain before WV comes to your rescue.

“Ari,” WV interjects, rolling his eyes. “Calm down. John here did not call you a moron. Though if he had, I can’t say I’d disagree with him. We’ve been here only a week, and already you’re taking this too seriously. You and I both know you made that vest yourself, and you’re not campus security. You’re a volunteer.”

“I’m a volunteer whose job it is to uphold _justice_ ,” he insists. “As the age-old mantra goes, “Law is Beauty. Order is Peace.”

“And the library is in order!” WV exclaims. “Look, everything is in order and I am showing a _library patron_ a requested material. The only thing disrupting the peace is you.”  
“Hmmph. Be that as it may, I cannot allow such a flagrant disrespect for the law go unnoticed,” Ari scowls, looking a bit dejected that his speech had no effect on WV. Suddenly, he turns his attention back on you. “I’ve got my eye on you,” he says, his seriousness almost comical. 

“Okay?” You say. 

“And for the record, don’t listen to anything he says about me,” Ari says, gesturing to WV as he turns away. “He’s just jealous.” 

“They and them pronouns!” WV calls after him as he walks away, but Ari doesn’t give any indication that he’s listening. He stops briefly to snap at someone tapping their pencil on a table for “disrupting the peace”, and then he’s gone.

“Well,” WV says from behind you, “That went well.”

“Wait, what?” You ask, trying to detect any trace of sarcasm in their voice as you turn to face them. “Are you serious?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” they answer, sighing. “Ari’s a handful, but you handled that well. No ridiculous fines were given to you, and you only babbled a little when he snapped at you, so I’d say all-in-all that went just fine.”

“Oh. Well, okay, if you say so,” You reply, still a bit baffled.

“I do say so,” WV nods. “He’s my cousin by the way, if you were wondering. Both of us have family working at Skaia University, and it’s become something of a family tradition to attend school here and get an on-campus job. Plus we’ve been visiting here since we were rugrats, so this place is kind of like a second home to us. Ari tends to get a little carried away with the whole thing though...”

“That makes sense,” you say. “It’s pretty cool that there’s a whole family community within the university!” Internally, you latch on to what they said about having a tradition of on-camous jobs. Maybe since WV is so invested in Skaia they could help you find a job! 

“There are several families here like that,” they continue, “So don’t be too surprised if you hear a few other people arguing like kin. Especially if you’re planning to officially join the Prospit or Derse group.” 

“Oh yeah! I’d almost forgotten about that,” you say, remembering the yellow pin that had arrived in the mail shortly after you received your acceptance letter to Skaia. A note had been included in the envelope, something about the history of the university and how originally two colleges merged to form Skaia or something? You have a feeling you’re mangling the story a little... Whatever it was, it had talked about the different values held by the different founders, and how now there were two groups a student could be selected for. Although...the letter hadn’t seemed to say how exactly students were selected. Maybe it had something to do with your interview or your essay?

“You’re back in the clouds, aren’t you?” WV asks. You realize belatedly that it’s been minute since either of you said anything.

“Oh hell, sorry about that!” You apologize again. “I was just wondering, how do people get selected for Prospit or Derse?”

He smiles mischievously. “I can’t tell you, boy. University secret.” 

“Oh come on!” You wheedle, “ You’re like the wizard of Skaia University! You know all the secrets!” 

“Mm, well as much as I would like that to be true, I am but a simple Vassal of Skaia,” they smile. “Though I do know quite a few interesting things.”

“Well then you’re the Wizardly Vassal!” You reply, grinning a bit. 

WV pauses.

“...I actually like that one,” they say, nodding slowly. WV looks up at you for a moment, their expression calculating. “Hmm, I suppose there is one way you could learn a few trade secrets.”

“How?” You ask, caught between laughing at WV’s tone and being conerned. Are they going to challenge you to do something? Are there trials to accessing the secrets of Skaia? Is there going to be a to-the-death battle? From the gravity in their voice it almost sounds like they’re going to send you out on a-

“Are you looking for a job right now?” WV asks, interrupting your train of thought. 

“....” 

“John?” They ask? “Did you not hear what I just said, boy?”

“ What? No! I mean, yes! Yes I heard what you said,” you stammer. “You just, caught me off guard. But yes! Yes I am looking for a job!” You grin. Who knew this would turn out so well? It’s almost like this was predestined to happen! Like it was planned out by someone with a comprehensive idea of where events would take you and why your presence at certain locations would be necessary. In other words, it’s a miracle.

 _Haha, yeah right!_ You think. Seriously, who believes in _those_?

“Great,” they smile. “Any chance you can start tomorrow?”

“Oh, uh sure!” You say. “Do you want my schedule so we can work out hours...or?”

“Here, let me see your phone,” they reply, putting out a hand. 

“Okay?” You say, watching curiously as WV takes the phone from you and taps the screen a few times.

“There,” they announce handing the phone back over. “Now you can just text me your schedule, and I’ll work something out with the head librarian. Take care of the paperwork and all that.” You look at the contacts page open on your phone, and sure enough, there’s a new addition labeled “Wizardly Vassal”. 

“Haha, thanks,” you laugh, putting the phone back in your pocket. “My last class end at about five tomorrow, is that an alright time for me to come by?” 

“Sounds acceptable,” they nod. Just then, the walkie-talkie holstered to their waist buzzes. “I’ve got to go. Can you find your way to the check-out counter?” They ask.  
“I’m going to go with... yes,” you say, nodding at the large “check out here” sign a few yards away pointing to the main floor. 

“Right then,” they nod. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you then,” you agree, smiling as WV walks off. Find a job? Check. Meet new people? Check. Make some new friends? Vague check! You think WV could be something of a friend. Who knows, maybe you’ll even befriend a few people you meet in class. Speaking of...you’ve got to run! Looks like it’s going to be a mad sprint to make it to Bio Lab on time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, thus ends the slow, day-by-day pace of WBOTH. Be prepared for a time skip in the next chapter, thing are about to speed up. 
> 
> Also, if you guys like illustrations, headcanons in art form, sarcasm, spoilers or anything of the like, you should check out WBOTH's Tumblr! http://8eautiful8luechaos.tumblr.com/ More drawings will be uploaded soon, and there will be snippets or things to come. Terrifying, horrible things. Like finals week! 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! :::; )


	10. Worn Out Places, Worn Out Faces

“I’ll see you later,” you call over your shoulder to Rose as you part ways.

“See you later, Vriska,” she echoes with a wave. You turn away and hike your bag up higher over your shoulder to keep it from falling in its textbook-laden state. It’s been several weeks since the term began, and so far things are going...pretty well. You mean, of course they are. Why wouldn’t they be?  They’re going _great_ , just like they should.

Your classes are uneventful for the most part since you’re trying to get a few of the general ed ones out of the way first, but you’ve learned some interesting things in Psych 101 and Intro to Mythology of the Ancient World. The latter is your extra for the semester and has been dubbed IMAW, partially because way too many myths have to do with mouths and mostly because really, who the hell wants to say the whole name each and every time???????? Definitely not you. You’ve got better things to do! Like going to Simply Spurb café with Rose and teasing her for gawking at that waitress with the jade highlight in her hair. Or exploring the campus and finding all the best places to hang out, study, and see how many times you can hurtle bits of cereal or whatever you’re munching on at passerby before they look up. (So far the current record is six at this one guy. You plan to improve on that.) Or finishing your re-reading of your favorite book series. It’s about this ruthless pirate queen who travels the eight seas (there’s an extra in this book) and is renowned and feared for her unbeatable mind-control powers and-

You’re getting distracted, you realize as you walk straight past your room. _Pay attention to where you’re going, dumbass,_ you mentally scold yourself in irritation as you open the door.

You need to drop off a few books before heading to Writing and Composition, or else the straps of your bag are probably going to wave a white flag. You place the bag carefully on your bed, resisting the urge to just drop it on the ground like you always do. On second thought, that treatment _may_ have something to do with its wear and tear. Oh well!

Thankfully, it’s your last class of the day so you can leave almost everything behind. Except...fuck it you should probably got to the library afterwards and look for that book your Psych teacher recommended. Thus far you’d avoided the library, though it’s looking to be unavoidable now. Not to mention that you’re going to need somewhere to study once it gets too cold outside for you to conceivably stay outdoors...

You sigh as you finish taking the extra books out of your bag. You know you should suck it up and go. That doesn’t make it any more appealing though.

_Maybe they’ll at least have a decent vending machine,_ you think to yourself. You have not forgotten the infernal device in what you now know to be Penumbra Hall where most of the general ed classes are held. In fact, you may or may not glare at it every time you walk by.

“Alright, where the fuck did my Writing and Comp notebook go?” You ask aloud, looking around the room accusingly as though the walls themselves might know. Somehow a stack of notes or a comb or the cap for your prosthesis cleaner always disappears, and you have to spend an infuriating amount of time looking between the bed and the wall or under the dresser to find it again. Considering your room is still barren of anything beyond the basic essentials, you wouldn’t think there’d be many places to lose something. You would be wrong.

 It’s...kind of depressing how bare your room is actually. It’s not like your room is bad or anything; it’s actually pretty great as far as dorms go. But still. You walk past a dozen dorms every day. After a week, not a single one of them was as empty as yours.

 

You could drop out tomorrow and the only thing that would indicate you were ever here would be a few books and the clothes in your closet! Even your laundry hamper is from Skaia, you bought it in the school supply store during your first week and it nearly blends in with the color of the walls. You always keep the door to your room closed. You don’t know what people would say if they saw it, and while a large part of you wants to say “Fuck it, fuck you, maybe I _like it_ this way, ever think of that you little pricks?!” you’re not sure how convincing it would be. It’s a large part of the reason you’ve never invited Rose over. She’s never pressed the issue, she’s actually been pretty damn decent about respecting your boundaries since the thing at the café. Which is...good. Right. Good. The last thing you need is to start a fight by trying to force her into believing some bull-shit lie. You still don’t exactly have people lining up to befriend you.

...Which is their fucking loss. Losers.

The barrenness sets you at odds in that it both makes you uneasy and comforts you, in a weird way. Until recently, your living space was a closely monitored one. Its strict, pre-planned monotony was non-negotiable and cold, and while there was a painting on the wall and a couple of plants to spice up the blandness, none of it belonged to you.  That was really, painfully obvious. Unlike most of the other patients whose family brought them knick-knacks or little trinkets, or even the few who had allowances funneled to them so they could request certain items, you had nothing. None of it was ever yours. Unlike here though, you _definitely_ left a few marks on that stupid space.

Sometimes you catch yourself wondering who was moved into that room after you. You occasionally wonder how long they waited to fix the holes in the wall before allowing a new inhabitant, and if the new resident will ever find the etchings you made on the underside of the bed. You needed something to break the pattern of every day. Something that was yours and yours alone. Back then, it sometimes felt like those little marks, those little rebellions against the smothering _sameness_ , were the only things keeping you from disappearing all together.  Which is stupid. That whole place was stupid. _You_ were stupid. And the places before were-

...not important.

_Not that any of that shit matters now though_ , you think to yourself as you finally spot the elusive book on the floor beteen the dresser and the wall. You throw the textbook in your bag and head for the door. _None of it matters,_ you think stubbornly. You’re _never_ going back there, and as far as anyone here will ever know, you were never there in the first place.

........

Your name is Rose LaLonde, and thus far, college has not been nearly as tedious as you once believed it would be. In fact, you might even be persuaded to go as far as to say it’s been...somewhat enjoyable. Your dorm offers you a fair amount of privacy, as your intended roommate oddly requested a room transfer shortly after the beginning of the term. You’d noticed she seemed a bit...alarmed by a few of the specimens you’d placed on proud display in the dorm. Really though, is a preserved vampire squid or mummified baby gulper eel truly something to balk at? You certainly think not. Not matter the reason for her departure though; you’re quite glad to have the space to yourself for however long it lasts.

Your classes are thus far easy, but not mind-numbingly so, and Intro to Psychology as well as Marine Biology 101 have both proven to be entertaining. You are especially looking forward to delving into deep-sea life next semester in the following course. One might even say it’s going to be “the coolest shit in the whole course”. Said one person may or may not be yourself. Deep-dwelling creatures have always fascinated you, and you have long considered this interest to be something of a hobby of yours, along with related mythology. That is why, while you will be double majoring in Women, Gender, and Sexuality Studies coupled with Psychology, you plan to take as many courses in your other fields of passion as you can. This has led you to have something in the way of a heavy course load. Not that you mind of course. You take hard work as a challenge.

For now though, that challenge will have to wait. That is because you are currently busy finding room 413 in the Student Union building so you can replace your Student I.D. card. You, along with approximately half of the campus, were recently notified that a proportionate number of I.D. cards were entered incorrectly into the university’s system, and as such would need to be swapped out. You waited a few days in hopes of avoiding too long a line, and are pleased when you enter the building to see that it is not particularly crowded. You follow a sign indicating the way to rooms 400-420, and a few turns later find yourself outside your desired destination. After trying the door handle and finding it unlocked, you step into a compact waiting room space. One wall is taken up by a door and a glass box window, behind the latter of which you see a small, crowded office. Said office is currently inhabited by a rather angry looking young man typing on a computer.

“Let me guess,” he says, voice dripping in sarcasm, “You need to replace your fucking I.D. card.”

“That would be ideal, especially since you seem so enthusiastic at the prospect,” you say as you walk over, intentionally inflecting no emotion into your tone. He raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. “I take it I’m far from the first person to have made this request today?” You ask, attempting to politely spur on the conversation. You may have loathed every moment of the gruesome etiquette classes your mother forced you into as a child, but their lessons certainly stuck with you.

“Try the fucking thousandth,” he growls, violently hitting a key several times. “The wire sucking dick bags in the data entry department fucked this up, yet here I am, having to deal with their shit flaming mess.”

“Sounds unbearably tedious,” you reply. “I’m assuming they don’t pay you nearly an adequate sum to put up with this?”

“Not by a damn mile,” he replies. “I’m assuming you didn’t come here to talk about my feelings though,” he says, mimicking the lilt of your previous words. “Student I.D. number?” He asks, looking up at you for the first time from behind the window. You distractedly take note of his interesting eye color as you read off the number, seeing that his irises look oddly like embers from a bonfire interspersed with red flecks.

“Alright, this should do it,” he grumbles after clicking the mouse several times. “I just need you to sign-oh damn it!!!” he snarls, as a loud beeping noise emanates from somewhere beyond your viewpoint at the window. “That’s the third time today that piece of shit has jammed,” he growls, pushing away from the desk. He takes two steps before stopping, and, seeming to have only just remembered your presence, spares you a glance and says, “You can come around here through that door. Read the information on your card on the screen to make sure it’s right. I’ll be back, don’t touch anything,” he finishes, walking away before you can respond.

“Alright then,” you say a few seconds later. You open the door and walk over to the computer as instructed, and scan the half a dozen I.D. cards on the screen. You note that one of the cards belongs to the foul-mouthed student you just spoke to, and that his name is “Karkat Vantas”. A moment later your eye is caught by another name though, this one far more familiar. 

Right next to your own I.D. is a small photo of a face you’d know anywhere, and, even were you suddenly to be struck by prosopagnosia, a name that you could never forget.

You are...not sure what to make of this.

Jade Harley is transferring to Skaia University.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am dearly sorry for the wait for this chapter! I started at a new job last month, and it along with the end of the term and my volunteer jobs have kept me very busy. WBOTH will keep updating though! I promise you that. Also, as I learn how to better use AO3, there should be some fun new things, like more pictures! As always, I love comments!  
> Thank you all for reading!


	11. World Hate and All That Jazz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Fun Fact: This was originally to be the first chapter of WBOTH.

The evidence doesn’t lie, it’s official. The world hates you. Flat-out, blatantly hates you. It’s the only logical explanation for why, when you finally roused yourself to make the effort of going to the library, you were rewarded for your struggles with this. A visit from America’s Next Top Moron. You swear, you’re about 18 seconds from telling the world to go fuck itself! Or maybe you’ll just yell that at Eridan. Seeing as how he is _right here in front of you_ after all.

Of course, having to drive home this unfortunate point, Eridan chooses that moment to speak.

“So, I see they’re lettin anyone in these days,” he sighs, flipping one end of his ridiculous scarf over his shoulder as he takes a seat at the table you’d been using. “Vvery disappointin.”

Oh gods he still has that fucking stutter. _And_ the stupid hair dye. Why is he even here? Why?! There are thousands of other schools in this country, not to mention the rest of the world. Out of everywhere this pretentious douche sack could have ended up, why _here????????_ Clearly the world is conspiring against you.

You mentally count to ten before replying, “Well Ampora, I’ve got to say, I’m surprised to see you here too. I didn’t know they allowed paparazzi into the library! Where’s your adoring entourage?”

 You didn’t miss the fact that he’s alone. Eridan _hates_ being seen as rejected or unpopular. It’s something of a...delicate subject with him. From the stories he used to tell about his preppy boarding school you’d think half the school had followed him around. Of course, it only took one look at the stunning _lack_ of visitors he received during the time you knew him to see what a big fat lie that was. Were you not out of the habit of betting, you’d pin quite a bit on the guess that he hasn’t found too many people here willing to put up with him here either.

“Vvery funny Vvris,” he sneers, not missing the jab.  You smirk a little at his tone. If he didn’t want people to know about his “rejection issues”, or more specifically if he didn’t want _you_ to know about his issues, he should have been more careful about who he blabbed to! Not much remains a secret in close quarters if you’re not subtle. You know that all too well.

“I see you’re still as charmin as evver,” he continues, leaning back in his chair. “Some things nevver change I suppose.”

You say nothing, willing gravity to step in and knock Eridan over as he continues to balance his chair on its back two legs.

Eridan does not fall, and you conclude that apparently gravity hates you too. Whoopee.

“I, on the other hand,” he continues, choosing to ignore your silence, “havve changed plenty.”

“Is that so?” You ask, crossing your arms as smoothly as you can. How shocking, he seems like the same self-important brat he’s always been.  Believing everyone’s beneath him, pretending he’s a gift to the world, getting by on his family’s money-

Aaaaaaaand that explains it. Eridan’s family used all the bribes to get him here. All of them. Skaia may not be Harvard, but it’s by no means shabby. Most people here earned at least one scholarship to make ends meet. One look at Prince Douchelord’s record here and a less... _influential_ college would have said no way.

That mystery settled, you reluctantly tune back into the present. It doesn’t look like you missed more than a sentence or so, and you distractedly note that as he twirls the end of his scarf it causes the knot to loosen and lower the other end of the fabric considerably. Eridan does not appear to have noticed, surprise surprise, the unraveling fabric _or_ the lack of fucks you give about his story.

“And for your information, I’m majoring in Physics. That’s science, in case you didn’t knoww,” he continues, oblivious to your little zone-out.  

“Physics?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. “Why not Chemistry? Is it too hard to study something you don’t have?  I mean, judging by how long you’ve managed to balance on that chair it seems not even gravity is attracted to you!” You smirk, watching his face go red.  You’re practically cooing the last few words. You know just what buttons to press and you’ve got to say, seeing this stuck-up prick lose his composure over a few well calculated jabs feels really damn _good._ It serves him right for thinking he’s better than you.

Eridan’s expression darkens into a scowl as he leans forward. “Wwell you knoww wwhat-owww fuck!” He yelps, toppling backwards as the end of his scarf catches under the leg of his chair.

“Guess I spoke too soon!” You laugh. Someone shushes you both from a few tables over, but you ignore them as Eridan stands and brushes himself off. He doesn’t speak as he re-wraps his scarf. Hah! It even has a tear in it! This loser always did make it too easy to screw with him! With any luck he’ll finally leave and you can get something done. Sadly, luck has not been on your side much of late. Or for the past few years really…

“You think you’re so funny Vvris,” he sneers. You groan inwardly as he sits down again. Apparently making a fool of himself once wasn’t enough for today.

 “I try,” you reply with a shrug. It’s getting late, you notice with annoyance. At this rate you’re going to have to come back tomorrow to get anything accomplished. It was hard enough convincing yourself to come to the library in the first place, seeing as how you pretty much hate studying. At least the library is pretty empty this time of day. Most people have already gone home.

“Wwhat’re you studyin anywways?” He asks, reaching over to pick up your textbook.  You swat his hand away too late and his eyes widen as he reads the cover.

“...Psychology?! You’re takin psychology?”  He laughs so hard he doubles over, gasping as he tries to catch his breath. “Hah! That’s priceless!”

You are not amused. _At least there's no one around to hear him_ , you think to yourself. As long as he doesn't bring up-

 “Wwhat’s the matter? Thought you wwould study other psychopaths for a change? ” He points a finger at you. “Can’t you do enough a that just starin in the mirror?” Almost everyone’s left the library now, and over Eridan’s cackling you hear someone on the intercom announce that the library will be closing in ten minutes.

“Shut up,” you growl at him, trying to stay calm. You can practically feel your blood pressure rising. This is exactly why you wanted to avoid him. You are _starting over,_ and the last thing you need is some idiot like Eridan screwing it up with little stories of the past. These past few weeks have gone by perfectly. You’ll be damned if he’s going to be the one to ruin this for you.

“Oh my god Vvris, I bet you could get extra credit if you make a timeline a’ your old loony meds or somethin.” No. _No one_ _is going to ruin this for you_. “Oh, oh! Or maybe you could- ulg!” You’ve startle him by grabbing a fistful of his scarf and yanking him forward so hard he chokes.

“I said, shut up,” you hiss. He needs to understand just how serious you are about this. “Listen Ampora because I’m only gonna say this once.” _You just want to forget the last few years and start over. Is that really so much to ask?_ “You don’t talk about me, to _anyone_. You don’t mention knowing me now, you don’t even mention having ever met me in the past, nothing.” You dimly notice his face is turning a very dark shade of red, but to be honest, you don’t really care. As long as he gets the message.  “As far as everyone here is concerned, we’ve never even met before. Do you understand? ”He frantically nods his head at you, but before you can so much as say “good”, you hear a loud crash from behind you. You whip your head around, and see a guy about your age scrambling to pick up a stack of books he’d knocked over. He looks up and meets your gaze with wide blue eyes.

For several moments you both stay frozen.

“I-I think that guy might be…dying,” he finally stammers, not breaking your gaze. You blink, surprised. You turn to look at the idiot still held tightly by your fist and-oh shit he’s purple!!!!!!!! Murdering Eridan Ampora by asphyxiation was _not_ how you’d planned to start your new life!

........

Your name is John Egbert, and you are currently struck speechless as you watch the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen strangle the life out of the boy sitting across from her. It dimly occurs to you in the back of your mind that you should probably do something like separate them, or call campus security.  At the same time this obvious thought occurs to you though, you’re overwhelmed by the scene playing out before you.

“You don’t mention knowing me now, you don’t even mention having ever met me in the past, _nothing_ ,” the girl seethes. Wait, girl? Young woman? Young woman sounds so _outdated_ , like you’re some old geezer, or a teacher!  Whatever you want to call her aside, it’s clear she’s pissed about something. You only caught a glimpse of her face before when you were re-shelving books, but even in that short time she caught your attention. Enough so that you may-or-may-not have just volunteered to let the people in this section know that the library was closing soon, just in case she still happened to be here.

...It would appear you’ve walked into more than you bargained for. She’s currently got some guy held by his scarf, (It’s not even cold out yet! Who wears those now??) and is apparently telling him what’s what. Also cutting off his air supply. Also that. Wow, his face is really getting dark! ...Yeeeeaah, that’s not good. You should really probably step in, you think, setting down the pile of books you’d been carrying onto the table beside you and taking a step forward. Shit- what are you even going to say? This is really awkward; clearly you’ve walked into something private-

 “As far as everyone here is concerned, we’ve never even met before. Do you understand? ” She continues, shaking him a little. Damn, she sounds really serious! Who is this guy? And what on earth is she so against him telling people about her? Is she an international spy? Is she in WITSEC? Did she have an emo Hot Topic phase complete with the mortifying photos to prove it? Whatever it is, the guy seems to think his life is more important than telling the world, because he starts to frantically nod his head. Okay, good, maybe you won’t need to intervene after all- you think, just as you oh-so-smoothly step back and elbow the pile of books on the table.

Well shit.

The girl, young woman, WHATVER, is staring at you full force in shock, and _wow._ Her eyes are _amazing._ There’s like three different kinds of gold and amber in them! Not to mention the cool blue lipstick she’s wearing that would probably look really stupid on most people but somehow looks great on her and her cool scar and- oh shit shit shit that guy she’s strangling is REALLY SUFFOCATING!  

“I-I think that guy might be…dying,” you stammer idiotically, pointing at the unfortunate chokee still caught in her death grip. She blinks, as if woken from a trance and turns back to the guy only to inhale sharply and let go of him. He splays his arms out just in to time to avoid a nasty face-plant into the table and wheezes.  

“Eridan,” she starts to say, but is cut off as the guy- err, you guess you mean _Eridan,_ takes a deep breath and says “You’re never going to make it here.”  She recoils as if she’s been slapped, and though you can’t see her face you’d guess she’s wearing the expression to match. Eridan, having regained his breath it looks like, pushes away from the table with a sneer. He starts to storm off before pausing, and looking over his shoulder to say, “You don’t need me to sabotage this for you, Vvris. Just wait n’ see; you’ll do a fine job of it all by yourself.”

“Fuck. _You_ ,” she hisses.

“Maybe another time,” he shrugs, walking off for real this time.

“Well- WELL YOU KNOW WHAT,” she shouts after him. Yikes, it’s a good thing all the other patrons have already left, or you would be getting _sooo_ many complaints about this. “YOU’RE GOING TO DIE ALONE. KNOW ONE CARES ABOUT YOU ERIDAN, YOU’RE STILL THE SAME, SPOLIED, PRETENTIOUS, PIECE OF SHIT YOU’VE ALWAYS BEEN.” Okay, beautiful as she may be this has gotten a little out of hand. You should probably- oh wait, she’s leaving, you realize. She’s swinging her bag over her shoulder and trying to balance her books and she looks really fucking upset. Should you ask her if she’s alright?? No, she just choked a guy and they hurled insults at each other. Obviously that’s not alright, no matter how bad her emo phase may have been. But still...you feel kind of bad? What he said really seemed to hit home with her, and you think you should have broken this up before it went so far. WV would not be impressed, and honestly, you’re not so impressed with yourself either right now. Okay, screw it, you’re going to talk to her.

“Hey, are, you okay?” You ask, taking a few steps towards her.

“Oh yeah, I’m fucking fabulous,” she mutters.  “I just got into a pathetic pissing match in the library. With a wonderful audience no less! That’s not lame at all,” she adds, rolling her eyes.

“Well, I mean it could be worse,” you say. She raises an eyebrow at you and you quickly add, “You could have really ugly purple dye in your hair.” She’s silent for a moment, before laughing a little. “It is pretty horrendous isn’t it?” Before you know it you’re both laughing out loud. It only lasts for a minute before she stops, and says, “The library’s closed now isn’t it?”

“Oh, uh yeah it closed about five minutes ago when we shut all the computers off,” you answer. “The doors aren’t locked yet though,” you continue, lifting the lanyard out of your pocket where the keys are attached.

 “Damn. I was supposed to check this book out,” she frowns, waving the paperback in her right hand.

“Take it,” you blurt out. “I mean, you’re not planning to hoard it away in your secret lair or sell it on eBay, right? I don’t see any harm in putting it on my library card,” you finish.  She looks at you for a second before giving you a small smile.

“Alright then,” she nods. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” you reply, grinning back. “Just make sure you don’t dog ear the pages, the librarians here hate that.”

“No promises,” she jokes, tucking her chair back under the table. There’s a moment of silence just sidling up to awkward when she says, “Good Night.”

“Bye,” you say as she turns away and walks towards the stairs. She waves a little and then she’s out of your view. Only then do you realize two things.

One, you never found out her name. And two, she left her phone on the seat next to her.

 

AN: You can view the WBOTH Tumblr page [here](http://8eautiful8luechaos.tumblr.com/) ! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's not dead!!!! Oh dear, I hope you didn't guess me... Between work and school I assure you, I am very much dead. This story isn't though! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and as always, comments are very much welcome!


	12. All That Jazz, From Another Perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND SO IT CONTINUES.

“Eridan,” you start before being cut off. Before you can get another word in he takes a deep breath and glares at you in a way that you know spells disaster. Sure enough, his next words don’t disappoint.

 “You’re never going to make it here,” he spits _._

_...Well fuck._

You expected the blow and it stung anyways, you reflect as you visibly recoil. Eridan, having regained his breath it looks like, pushes away from the table with a sneer. Satisfied by your reaction, he starts to storm off before pausing, and looking over his shoulder to add, “You don’t need me to sabotage this for you, Vvris. Just wait n’ see; you’ll do a fine job of it all by yourself.” The unspoken words of “ _Just like before_ ” are deafening in the silence between you and it makes your blood run cold. Dim memories lurk beneath the surface of your mind, but you force them back under within seconds. _Screw him for making you think about that._

 _He’s just trying to intimidate you,_ you reason _._ Well tough fucking luck, _Ampora_. You aren’t intimidated. You’re furious.

“Fuck. _You_ ,” you hiss, seething.

“Maybe another time,” he shrugs, almost smugly. _Why that little-!!!!!!!!!_

“Well- WELL YOU KNOW WHAT,” you shout after him. “YOU’RE GOING TO DIE ALONE. NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOU ERIDAN, YOU’RE STILL THE SAME, SPOLIED, PRETENTIOUS, PIECE OF SHIT YOU’VE ALWAYS BEEN.” _AND YOU DON’T FUCKING SCARE ME. NOT EVEN CLOSE,_ you barely restrain yourself from adding. Shouting things like that after people only makes them think the opposite. It’s part of why you _hate_ most people you meet. He doesn’t deign to respond to your declaration, which makes you all the more mad. It’s like by not saying anything he’s made himself look better than you. Like he baited you and-

And that’s exactly what he fucking did, you realize. He _baited_ you. Gods you’re such an _idiot!!!!!!!!_ That pathetic little prick pushed you and you snapped like a twig!

You’re absolutely fucking done with this stupid day. You’re going back to your dorm, and spending a little quality time daydreaming of all the best ways you could... _hypothetically_ murder Eridan. Or angrily watch something on Netflix. You haven’t decided yet.

You continue on your stream of mental insults while packing up your things until a voice just behind you interrupts.

Right...there’s still the whole “witness to your pissy library fight” to deal with. _Great,_ you sigh. _Just great._

“Hey,” he begins tentatively, “Are, you okay?” Pfftt, is that actual concern in his voice? You could almost laugh. Who seriously gives a damn about strangers like that?

“Oh yeah, I’m fucking fabulous,” you reply, having gathered your stuff off the table.   “I just got into a pathetic pissing match in the library. With a wonderful audience no less!” You add, gesturing at him. “That’s not lame at all,” you conclude, rolling your eyes.

“Well, I mean it could be worse,” he says, shrugging.

...Is he serious? Is he really one of those dumbasses who say shit like “it could be worse!” or “it gets better!”?

Your thoughts must be reflected in your expression because he quickly adds, “You could have really ugly purple dye in your hair.”

You’re silent for a moment, before laughing a little. “It is pretty horrendous isn’t it?” He smiles in relief and for some reason it’s suddenly the most hilarious thing that he was worried about making YOU of all people feel better and before you know it you’re both laughing out loud. It only lasts for a minute before you stop however, as you realize something obvious.

“The library’s closed now isn’t it?” You ask, aware of the answer even as you give it voice.

“Oh, uh yeah it closed about five minutes ago when we shut all the computers off,” he answers. “The doors aren’t locked yet though,” he adds, lifting a lanyard out of his pocket.

 “Damn. I was supposed to check this book out,” you frown, waving the paperback in your right hand. _Guess that’s not happening._  Nicely done dumbass, you completed a total 0/1 things you came here to accomplish!!! Truly, you are one of the most brilliant minds of the century.

“Take it,” he suddenly blurt outs. “I mean, you’re not planning to hoard it away in your secret lair or sell it on eBay, right? I don’t see any harm in putting it on my library card,” he finishes sheepishly. 

...Huh, change that to _1_ /1 things accomplished. You smile a little. Small victories, you guess. “Alright then,” you nod. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he replies, grinning back. “Just make sure you don’t dog ear the pages, the librarians here hate that.”

“No promises,” you joke, tucking her chair back under the table. You glance at him through your hair as you finish pulling the rest of your things together. He looks about the same height as you, though that mess of black hair might give him and extra inch over you. It makes him look like he just woke up; that, or like he just went a few rounds with a small tornado. He’s kind of pale, not nearly as much as Rose though, sort of like it takes a while for him to tan and his eyes are- what the absolute _fuck???? Who the hell has eyes like that????????_ Those things look like they could drown a damn city they’re so blue! The sincerity in them would piss you off if you weren’t so busy trying to think of the right color to describe them.  It’s about then you realize that you no longer have any more things to pack up and this little moment of yours is getting a bit awkward. It feels like you should say something else to fill the awkward silence developing, so you decide to go with a smile and say “Good Night,” before turning away.

“Bye,” he says as you walk towards the stairs. You wave a little and then you’re around the corner where he can no longer see you. You climb the stairs to the far exit, and sure enough, the doors are unlocked. You push them open and stand outside for a moment. It’s nearly night, and only the smallest sliver of sunlight illuminated the campus. You watch as the street lamps (pathway lamps??) light up one by one before you start walking back to your dorm. Only then do you realize two things.

One, you never got his name. And two, you’re still smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gee, she's going to be pissed when she realizes she forgot that phone huh?
> 
> Sorry for the short chapter! This month has been hectic, what with holidays and work and APPLYING FOR COLLEGE! But hopefully a much longer chapter is on it's way. For now, enjoy the Johnvris!


	13. Foot, Meet Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we explore my headcanon that Bro would tease/shame Dave mercilessly over any innocent crush or affection he felt towards anyone until the point where Dave didn't want to tell him anything yet also convinced himself that his Bro was just "joking around with him" as a way of coping. As such, Dave has a little trouble with boundaries sometimes.

“So, let me get this straight,” you smirk. “You, John Egbert, met a smoking hot girl in the library just in time to witness her savage fight with a bespectacled douche-lord, got _in the middle_ of said fight just as she started to strangle the guy, and then maybe or maybe not flirted with her? AND kept her phone?”  You ask from your spot on the top bunk in your messy dorm room. “Dude, that’s kinky.”

“What the fuck Dave, how is it kinky???” John asks incredulously from the couch.

“Oh John, you naïve, perverted fool, let me count the ways. One, you only walked in on that fight because a half hour earlier you glanced once at her “beautiful glistening eyes” and decided to stalk her-”

“It wasn’t stalking!!” He interjects. “And I didn’t “keep” her phone! I was just doing my job-”

“Quiet horn dog,” you say, throwing a pillow at his face. “I’m psychoaggravating here.” You hear him mutter something that sounds dangerously close to “whatever Strilonde,” but elect to ignore it. This is just too good. “Second,” you continue, “you saw her engaged in a passionate, volatile fight with another man and what did you do? You _watched._ Classic voyeurism.”

 _“Seriouslyohmygods,”_ John yells through the pillow, which is now being used as a shield to hide him from his own shame.

“Thirdly, you got her attention and maintained eye contact as she strangled said other guy, and only after several moments of gazing deeply into each other’s soul windows did you think to say anything to her about, oh I don’t know, _not choking people to death in the library.”_ John says nothing. You almost hesitate before continuing. Almost. _“_ Not to mention you kept a memento to cherish these events by. Tell me Egbert, was it the choking that really sealed the deal for you, or the fact that you took her by surprise?”

“OH MY GODS STOP!” He shouts, completely unmuffled this time. The pillow you tossed earlier comes hurtling back towards you but you catch it easily and place it back on the bed behind you. “YOU’RE A LOT WORSE THAN ROSE SOMETIMES, YOU KNOW THAT?” He adds indignantly, pushing himself up off the couch and over to the mini fridge, which is, awesomely, now a thing that exists in your room. He steadily ignores you as he swings open the fridge door and selects an off-brand can of pepsi-cola. He ignores you even harder when you ask him to bring you a can as well.

“John,” you say as he plops back down on the couch and flips on the TV. Twenty seconds pass. “Joooooooohhnn.” Fifteen seconds. Nothing. “Come ooooon Egbert, don’t give me the cold shoulder,” you say, a hint of a whine in your voice. Radio silence for another forty. “Egbert?” Still nothing. You start to feel uneasy.

“...” Shit. He’s actually pissed off.

“Was it because I called you a horn dog or a naïve pervert?” You ask half-jokingly. Much as you hate to admit it, you don’t like being ignored. ...Or being the cause of one of your best bro being upset. Damn friends making you go all soft and shit.

“Neither,” he finally replies, sparing you a glance. “It’s because you’re a dick.”

“Aww come on, you know you love me,” you try; glad your voice doesn’t reveal your relief.

“Sometimes,” he replies, eyes back on the TV. Okay, that’s a start at least.

“...”

“...” Fuck it; you actually need to say something to fix this.

“You actually like her, don’t you?” You ask. John pauses a minute before replying.

“Yeah,” he confirms. “I really do.”

“Even though you just met her,” you state neutrally.

“Even though I just met her,” he agrees.

“...Sorry man,” you sigh, trying to convey your sincerity with the least amount of irony possible. “I got a little carried away.” _Completely fucked up sense of humor and all,_ you don’t add. _Thanks Bro._

John stares at you for a few seconds before his expression loosens. “It’s okay dude, I may have been a little more sensitive than strictly needed,” he concedes, the hint of a smile on his face. “After all, you didn’t even bring your best game for that. Underhanded innuendos? Come on, Dave! We both know you’re better than that,” he finishes, now openly smirking at you.

“Yeah,” you laugh as a weight disappears from your chest. “I must be more burned out than I realized. Guess being radio famous takes a lot out of a guy.”

“Pffftttt,” he laughs. “Radio famous? Try, “vaguely recognizable as that guy that sometimes tells people where to go to read more about a campus event online”,” he corrects.

“Alright, alright, no need to get jealous here,” you say, putting your hands up.

“Nooooo none of this “you’re just jealous” shtick again!” He laughs, flinging an arm over his face. “Didn’t Rose already have a long chat with you after diagnosing your narcissist complex?”

“It was _Narcissistic Personality Disorder_ thank you very much,” you correct, “And yes, yes she did. She also accused me of having an inferiority complex and revisited her ever popular Oedipus decree.”

“Heh, that’s almost as good as the time she diagnosed me as being a kleptomaniac,” he chuckles.

“Kleptomaniac?” You ask, purposely not eyeing the cellphone one the table.

“Her purple headband went missing,” he explains.

You raise an eyebrow. “Did you take it?”

“No, I just hid it,” John replies. “I had to man!” He exclaims, seeing he look on your face. “The brand was called Waldo’s, Dave. _Waldo’s_.”

“I know Egbert, sometimes your pranking little heart just can’t help itself,” you nod, glad to have moved on to a new topic. You both laugh, and fade into comfortable silence. Neither of you say anything for a few minutes until John uncovers his face and glances over at you.

“I didn’t even get her name,” he sighs.

“Well,” you say, considering. “You gave her that book, right? She’ll probably bring it back. You can catch her name then. I mean, come on, you work in the library, dude. Sooner or later she’s going to turn up. No one escapes the learning jail forever, especially once finals hit.”

“The _learning jail_?” He repeats uncertainly.

“Yes John, the learning jail,” you confirm. “It’s a giant brick building filled with enough boring textbooks to drive even the most stable-minded to commit horrid, unspeakable acts,” you state. “Every year more and more young lives are lost to its depths, searching for their “recommended course books” the poor fools... Everyone knows that once they enter the stacks, they’re never heard from again.”  

“Dave...that’s not how the library works,” he says. “In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s not how _anywhere_ works. What the hell kind of libraries did you go to growing up???”

“No kind. Striders don’t trust any information hub owned by The Man,” you answer. That, and like hell your Bro would have ever bothered taking you somewhere he didn’t have to. Books weren’t really a big thing in your “household”. Bro’s philosophy was if it was important, you could find it out on TV or with the help of good old Google. Not that you’ve never been to a library of course. Your school had one, and you’d taken a couple of trips to Houston’s Public learning prison once or twice as well. Libraries just never had that much to offer you, not unless you were allowed to use the computers without a teacher hovering over your shoulder, which happened exactly almost never. You learn better by hearing things anyways. There’s no need to explain all of that to anyone though.

“You’re so weird man,” John laughs, shaking his head. You’re glad he never really pushes you farther on this stuff. He knows you’ll come to him when you need to vent, and he never judges you. It’s part of what makes you such good bros. Besides, you know that if you were ever in any real danger John would be there to help you in an instant. He proved that the summer of your Freshman year. Still, even Egbert has his limits. You’ve got to keep working on your “people skills” as the prudes like to put it. Strider humor isn’t fit for all situations.

“Dave!” John exclaims, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Her phone is going off!”

“It sure is,” you agree. “You going to answer it?”

”Wha- I can’t just answer her phone! What if it’s her?” He asks, far more panicked than necessary.

“I think we can safely rule out that possibility, given the fact that you’re _holding her phone_ ,” you say, pushing yourself off the bunk and walking over.

“She could be using someone else’s phone!” He insists just as another ringtone joins the first. “Shit, now mine’s going off too!”

“Egbert, calm down,” you say. It’s not like him to get quite this flustered anymore; psycho girl must have really made an impression. “Just make a decision.”

“Alright, alright,” he says, picking up the phone and walking towards the door. “I’m going to answer it.”

“Where are you going?” You ask him as he opens the door to the hall.

“Outside!” He answers. “Privacy is a thing that exists!”

“You mean you don’t want to make a fool out of yourself in front of your roommate _and_ your crush,” you correct as he walks off.

“Whatever!” He calls over his shoulder. _Geezus Christ how long is this girl’s ringtone?_ You wonder. Speaking of ringtones...sounds like John’s phone is going off again.

“What the fuck kind of name is ‘Karkat’?” You ask aloud, picking up the abandoned phone. Wait. Didn’t John say something about a crabby guy in his nerd lab with that name? The guys already called twice...doesn’t seem like he’s giving up. Oh well.

“Hello, and thank you for calling Eric’s Roadside Eatery,” you deadpan. “You kill it we grill it. How can I help you this evening?”

“What,” a carefully measured voice says from the other end of the line, “The _actual fuck?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who got their impacted wisdom teeth out. Guess who feels like shit because it turns out that they're severly allergic to the pain medication perscribed to them and is now recovering from oral surgery with ice packs and a handful of Advil. Guess who only minimally cares about this beCAUSE THEY GOT INTO THEIR DREAM COLLEGE!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Hint: It's me.)
> 
> Also, look who's phone-meeting for the first time! Sounds like the beginning of a beautiful friendship, doesn't it?


	14. The Tricycle of Awkwardness

“Umm, don’t take this the wrong way Rose,” you stammer. “But, what the actual fuck???” Out of all the people you expected to be on the other end of the phone, Rose was definitely not one of them. You thought it would be a stranger if it wasn’t, y’know, _her_.

“I could ask you the same thing John,” she replies nonchalantly. Why does she never sound surprised by almost anything _ever_?? It’s really not helpful sometimes! “However,” she continues, “I think instead I’ll go for the more eloquent matter of “Why do you have Vriska’s phone?”

“Vriska’s phone?” You repeat like a moron.

“Yes,” she answers slowly. “Vriska Serket’s. Surely you remember? She’s the fellow student I met on our first day of classes and have, subsequently, been meeting once a week at Simply Sburb Café. I’m certain I told you her name at some point,” Rose adds.

“Yeah, no I remember you talking about her,” you recall, thinking back to a few weeks ago. Honestly? You hadn’t been too interested when Rose told you she’d made a new acquaintance. You guys all sort of had your own one or two casual friends you saw around campus, but they generally never came up in conversations. None of you ever really seemed to make any other close friends actually...it had been the four of you for almost as long as you could remember. The more you thought about it though, the more you remembered Rose’s brief mentions. Vriska was in her Psychology class. They were the same age, which meant Vriska was 19, and...Something about spiders??? You’d have to ask Rose more about that. Oh wait, that purple guy had called her “Vuh-vris” too or something hadn’t he? That...probably should have been a clue for you. How many people have names that start with Vris” right? What kind of name even is that anyways? It sounds like something from an alien language! A cool alien language though; not one of those half-baked alien languages that everyone knows is just English but flipped upside down and reversed or whatever.

“She’s in your Psychology class,” you say, careful not to get distracted from the conversation.

“Right,” Rose confirms on the other end. “Which leads me to ask again, how did you come to be in possession of her phone?”

“Oh! Uh, she left it in the library,” you stammer.

“I was under the belief that the university’s library closed at 8:00. What are you doing there so late?” She asks.

“Oh I’m not there right now,” you clarify. “I just...sort of brought her phone back to my dorm with me?” You finish sheepishly. Alright, you kind of see where Dave got some of his ammunition now.

There’s a moment of silence on Rose’s end before she speaks. “...John, do you feel that we may need to revisit this issue of your sudden kleptomaniac urges?”

“No!” You exclaim. “I didn’t _steal_ her phone, Rose! We were talking and she left it on the table where she’d been reading by mistake and I was going to go put it in the Lost and Found bin back behind the front desk but...”

“But what?” She nudges. Even from here you can practically _feel_ her raising an eyebrow at you. The Lalonde game is too strong.

“But I thought maybe I could give it back to her in person,” you admit. “So I could talk to her.” This is going to be the rocket battle all over again, you can feel it.

“I see,” she replies. “Well, why don’t you return it to her tomorrow night at Spurb?”

“Wait, what?” You ask.  “Back up a few steps for your non-telepathy inclined friend, okay?” Rose seems to forget sometimes that not everyone thinks through things the way she does...or as quickly.

“Simply Spurb Café. The one with the cake,” she says.

“No I know what place you’re talking,” you tell her. “I meant why would Vriska and I be there at the same time?”

“Because Vriska and I go to Spurb together at least once a week,” she states. You...still do not entirely follow.

“I’m _inviting you along_ , John,” she finally clarifies.

“Oh! Oh...” You say, comprehending. “Won’t...won’t that be kind of awkward though? I don’t want to third-wheel on your guys’ friend date. Don’t make me the tricycle of awkwardness Rose; I’ve been through enough tonight.”

“Firstly, it will not be awkward because I will use my impeccable if not gruelingly acquired etiquette to make sure that it is not,” she replies. “And secondly, would I be right to assume that it is none other than your resident Strider that has “put you through enough” tonight?”

“Firstly, you didn’t need so many words to say that. Secondly, yes. Yes you would,” you grimace. “He just goes a little too far sometimes.”

“We all do on occasion,” she says. “He’s gotten better though in some regards, has he not?”

“He has,” you concede. “And don’t get me wrong, Dave’s a great guy! He’s one of my best bros, and he’s got wicked taste in music!”

“But?” She prods.

“But you and I both know he’s still guarding a lot of stuff,” you say. “It just gets a little frustrating sometimes trying to dig through a million layers of irony. Especially since I don’t know how to help him when things get bad again.”

“You think they will?” Rose asks.

“I know they will at some point,” you confirm. “Dave’s got a lot of shit to deal with. I know everyone does, but Dave...He’s our friend, Rose, and he’s kept this all buried for a really long time.”

“I know, John,” she says. “Believe me, I know.” You hear the note of exhaustion in her voice and you know she’s thinking of her own childhood. You never really realized how lucky you were to have your dad until after Rose and Dave and hell even Jade told you how they’d grown up. It makes you want to just pile them all up in your dad’s car, drive them to your house, and let him worry over them for a while sometimes. You’re sure he’d be happy to see Dave again, he still asks you about him nearly every time you talk on the phone. Rose made you swear on your life not to disclose anything she told you, but it was nearly impossible sometimes. Especially when her mom would disappear for a few days. You know she wasn’t anything like Dave’s bro, but she wasn’t anything like your dad either.

You can only imagine the havoc all four of you would create in your house...

“...I know you do Rose,” you reply gently. “How’ve you been doing lately?” You ask a bit uncertainly. You’re never entirely sure when it’s okay to ask her, but you don’t want her to feel like you’ve forgotten or you don’t care either.  

“Honestly?” She asks. “Better than one might fear.”

“...That’s good,” you say, still uncertain. She doesn’t respond.

Well look at that. You didn’t even need to crash a friend date to become the tricycle of awkwardness!

“Yes, yes it is,” she finally says. “Especially when the one fearing is a hopelessly well-intentioned friend with all the social grace of an intoxicated elephant.” Ah, so it wasn’t just you who felt the awkwardness then. Great. That’s really great.

“John?” She asks.

“Yeah?”

“I’m joking. Lighten up,” she says. You’re almost certain she said that in her most deadpan voice on purpose.

“Rose,” you say, making your voice as serious sounding as possible. “I know jokes. And that was definitely not a joke. A pale imitation of a joke, sure. But not a joke. You have so much to learn.”

“Well, you’ll have to teach me another time,” she replies, and this time you can hear a smile in her voice, albeit a small one. “I have an essay to finish.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you grin. “You’re just writing wizard fanfiction in your room, aren’t you?”

“What a young lady does in the privacy of her bedroom is none of your concern Jonathan,” she says.

“Oh come on!” You exclaim. “Double entendres from you too?? That’s it; I’m ending this phone call before it gets any weirder!”

“Good night, John,” she says, laughing just a little. “Do not forget about tomorrow. I’ll tell you the details between classes.”

“Alright,” you agree. “But if this goes horribly I’m pinning all the blame on you, Rose!”

“All the blame?” She asks.

“ALL OF IT,” you answer.

“I accept your terms,” she concedes.

“Good. Have a good night Rose!” You say.

Okay. So you’re going to see Vriska tomorrow. At a café. With Rose. Yeah, that’s a thing that you just agreed to-

“You as well John,” she says, distracting you from your already wandering thoughts. Oh right, phone call, still happening. You’re about to end the call before you hear her speak again.

“John?”

“Yeah Rose?” You ask.

“You do help; both Dave and I,” Rose says a bit stiffly. She pauses for a second. “I would sincerely hope that you know that by now,” she concludes before hanging up.

_...Aww. Rose showed emotion!_ You think to yourself. _That’s big for her._ It look like you did something right today at least! Before you can congratulate yourself further, you hear someone calling your name.

“HEY JOHN!” Dave calls, leaning out the window from your guys’ dorm room a couple of floors up. Oh gods what now??

“YEAH??” You call back.

“SOMEONE WANTS TO TALK TO YOU,” he says. Who would be calling you on Dave’s- wait a second, is that your phone??? Shit, you must have left it up there when you answered Vriska’s cell! You quickly head back inside the dorm before Dave can shout anything else. Gods it’s been a long day...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have a nice bowl of honey nut feelios. 
> 
> As always, comments are greatly appreciated!


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